Gemotions

The thin, blue airmail envelope sat on the kitchen table, a beacon in the dull morning light. Michael had almost thrown it in the bin, assuming it was junk mail. Then he saw the return address. His hand trembled as he carefully opened it. He barely recognized the handwriting.

He sat down heavily at the table, a strange lightness spreading through him. He traced the words with his finger, reading and re-reading, a silly, dopey smile plastered on his face. The knot in his stomach, which had been a constant companion for years, had vanished.

A childish urge to do something silly, something reckless, overwhelmed him. He had to tell someone, but who? His old friend, David? He had to know! He grabbed his phone. “David!” he boomed into the receiver. “You won’t *believe* what just happened!” He felt a spring in his step as he paced the room, the phone pressed to his ear.