Gemotions

He sat hunched in the armchair, the shadows stretching long and distorted in the dying light of the late afternoon. Dust motes danced in the lone ray of sun that managed to pierce through the curtains, highlighting the emptiness of the room. A half-eaten sandwich sat on the coffee table, the crusts already hardening. His eyes were fixed on a point somewhere beyond the window, seemingly unable to process the passing traffic.

A postman's knock broke the stillness, jarring him from his reverie. He didn’t bother to move, and eventually, the sound of the letter being pushed through the letterbox faded away. It was several minutes before he eventually found the motivation to drag himself to the door.

The envelope felt strangely heavy in his hand. He recognized the handwriting instantly. A wave of nausea washed over him, leaving him feeling cold and empty. He dragged himself back to the armchair, the letter clutched in his trembling hands, the sunlight's warmth failing to reach him.