Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome sight, felt like a personal affront. Elias glared at the offending rays filtering through the blinds, already regretting waking up. His coffee, brewed to perfection, tasted like burnt regret. A crumpled envelope, addressed in a familiar, loopy handwriting, lay on the kitchen table. He snatched it up with a clawing motion, his jaw tight. Years. It had been years since he'd last seen that penmanship. He ripped it open, a sharp intake of breath escaping his lips as the carefully crafted words unfolded. He tossed the letter onto the table, his knuckles white.

His appetite, already minimal, vanished. Every detail within the letter sparked a new wave of irritation. The carefully chosen words, the subtle acknowledgements of fault, it all felt like a carefully constructed attempt to soothe and placate. The audacity. He slammed the door, the sound echoing in the silent apartment.