Gemotions

The postmark was from out of state. He knew who it was from, even before he opened it. He wished he didn't. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands.

He spent the rest of the morning staring at the television, but nothing registered. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator.

He found himself wandering into the backyard, kicking at a loose stone. The gesture was a release of something tight inside of him, something he didn't want to think about. He needed to be alone.