Gemotions

The letter lay unopened on the kitchen counter, a stark white square. It was the letter from the scout team, and it was a harbinger of bad news. The paper felt heavy, a weight in the room. John, who stood frozen by the sink, found it difficult to breathe. The scent of coffee brewing, a morning ritual, normally filled him with a sense of purpose. Today, it was just another smell, another aspect of a world that suddenly felt wrong.

He picked at the loose skin around his thumbnails, a habit he'd adopted when he was stressed. He knew what it said inside, even before he opened it. He pictured the rejection.

His head began to throb, and the prospect of facing the day felt daunting. He glanced at the calendar, each day marked with a list of activities. Everything felt tedious.