Gemotions

He stared at the letter clutched in his hand, the paper crumpled from his grip. The city was a blur of noise and movement outside his apartment window, a stark contrast to the suffocating quiet within. The letter. It was from the man who had stolen his wife. Who had wrecked his life. Years. Years since the affair, since the divorce, since the quiet death of his dreams.

He felt the familiar tightening in his chest, the dull ache behind his eyes. He leaned against the wall, his legs suddenly weak. He slowly slid to the floor, the letter falling from his grasp. The city noises seemed to become louder, each one a painful reminder of his solitude.

He picked the letter up again, but he did not read it. The words didn’t matter. It was the fact of it, the ghost of a past he could not outrun, that had left him feeling like he was drowning in the deep end.