Gemotions

The crisp white envelope felt strangely warm in Elias's trembling fingers. Ten years. Ten years since the incident, the fallout, the bitter silence. He almost didn't open it. His apartment, usually dim and cluttered, seemed brighter than usual, sunlight slanting across the worn rug. He carefully slit the flap, the paper inside rustling like a whispered secret.

He read the words, a tremor running through his chest. A deep breath. He leaned back in his chair, the aged wood creaking in protest. A genuine apology. He’d never anticipated this, not in a million lifetimes. A small, involuntary smile played on his lips as he reread the lines, a warmth spreading through him like a newly lit fire.

He picked up his phone, scrolling through contacts, a strange energy surging through him. Maybe he could call Sarah, finally. They hadn’t spoken since the argument, not a single word. He dialed the number, his thumb hovering over the call button, a lightness filling him.