Gemotions

He had been expecting it. Not this specifically, but the inevitable reckoning. The letter arrived as he was preparing dinner, the smell of garlic and onions suddenly nauseating. He set down the knife, his hand unsteady. He felt a rising wave of pressure in his chest, making it hard to swallow.

He read the first line, then the second, then his vision blurred. He crumpled the letter in his hand, a primal urge to destroy it. He wanted to run, to escape the confines of his own skin. He clenched his jaw, battling the tremors that began to course through his body.

He forced himself to sit, but the chair seemed to shift beneath him. He grabbed the edge of the table, his knuckles white, fighting to maintain control. He felt the blood draining from his face, leaving him cold and clammy.