Gemotions

The letter was tucked into a book of fairy tales, a disturbing contrast. He felt a wave of icy dread wash over him. His hands were shaking so hard he could barely hold it.

It described a crime, a cover-up. He knew who was responsible. His own reflection, in the window, seemed to sneer back at him.

He was alone, utterly alone, in this revelation. He backed away from the window, his breath caught in his throat.

He had to protect himself. He tore the letter into tiny pieces and flushed them down the toilet. He went to the kitchen and got a drink. His hand would not stop shaking.