Gemotions

The phone rang, shattering the quiet of the empty house. David, lost in a memory, jumped. It was a voice he hadn't heard in two decades, a voice he thought he’d successfully banished from his consciousness. "David? It's Mark." He felt a cold hand grip his throat, squeezing the air from his lungs.

The ensuing conversation, a torrent of remorse and explanations, felt like a scene from a poorly written play. He listened, silent, his grip tightening on the phone receiver. He couldn’t muster a single word. Afterward, he slammed the phone back onto its cradle, the plastic cracking under the force. He stumbled to the nearest chair, his legs suddenly heavy, unable to bear his weight.