Gemotions

He stared at the letter, the paper worn and fragile, its message uncommunicated. Thomas had been cleaning out his late mother's desk, and this was among the papers. He sank onto the floor, the floorboards groaning beneath him. He felt as though a great weariness had taken root within his very bones.

His vision blurred as he read the words, written in his mother's hand when she was younger. The sadness he felt seemed to seep into every inch of him. His movements were slow, his breath shallow. His throat felt tight.

The sun shone through the windows, but the room felt cold. He folded the letter carefully, a slow, deliberate action. He closed the drawer, the weight of the unopened letter adding to the other burdens on his chest.