Gemotions

"Just open it, Liam," his wife had pleaded, her voice a gentle coaxing. He'd simply grunted in response, fiddling with the car keys, his fingers picking at the metal. The thick envelope, addressed in a familiar, yet distant hand, sat on the kitchen counter like a forgotten burden. The breakfast dishes remained unwashed. He glanced at the clock on the microwave, a sudden, urgent desire to be *anywhere* else consuming him.

He ripped the envelope open, his actions lacking grace. The words, carefully chosen, did little to soothe the coiled tension in his chest. A muscle in his jaw ticked. He crumpled the paper, throwing it in the bin with deliberate force.