Gemotions

He stared at the letter, its crisp, expensive paper a stark contrast to the junk mail overflowing from his mailbox. It was from *her*. After all this time. He reread the address, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He dropped the letter onto the counter, his hands shaking so violently he almost knocked over the salt shaker.

His legs felt like lead, making it an effort to stand. He paced his apartment, muttering under his breath, the words a jumbled mess of disbelief and fury. He grabbed the letter again, crumpling it in his fist. He wanted to rip it to shreds, to obliterate the very existence of the words.

His palms were slick with sweat. He stumbled back into the living room, the furniture seeming to shift and sway around him. He felt disconnected from his own body, a spectator to his own unraveling. The world tilted sideways.