Gemotions

"It's from her," Mark muttered, his voice barely audible. He clutched the letter, the paper feeling thin and fragile. The handwriting was instantly recognizable, a signature from an era he'd tried to erase. A decade of silence, and now this. A wave of dizziness washed over him.

He slammed the door of his apartment, needing the privacy to process. He paced the floor, agitated, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The letter, a white flag of surrender, felt like a cruel joke.

He sat down, his muscles tensed, his shoulders tight. He read the words, the familiar rhythm of her voice echoing in his mind. The ache was back, a slow burning fire in his gut. He was left with a feeling of confusion, a tangle of emotions he couldn't quite unravel.