Gemotions

The apartment felt cavernous, the silence amplified by the echoing drip of a leaky faucet. Ethan wandered from room to room, aimless, restless, the polished floorboards reflecting his slumped posture. The remnants of a forgotten breakfast remained on the table, congealed and untouched. He hadn't slept well in weeks.

A small, cream-colored envelope sat on the doormat, wedged amongst the bills and junk mail. He’d almost missed it. His name was scrawled on the front in a pen he knew all too well. He picked it up with a detached gesture, like handling a dangerous object.

He sank into the sofa, the cushions doing little to comfort his exhausted frame. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that did nothing to alleviate the knot of tension in his shoulders. The air felt thick, difficult to breathe.