Gemotions

The attic was stifling, the air thick with the scent of mildew. He held the letter in his trembling hand. It was his father’s handwriting, formal and precise, but the words… they were a puzzle. A mystery. A wrong thing.

He had to sit down. His legs threatened to give way. The words, so carefully chosen, hinted at something he couldn’t grasp. A feeling of dread took hold, squeezing at his chest.

The shadows in the attic seemed to deepen, to take on a life of their own. He felt a desperate need to escape, to be outside, to breathe fresh air. He wanted his father. He couldn't.