Gemotions

Rain hammered against the window, a rhythm that usually soothed Ethan. Today, it was just another thing to contend with. The letter lay on the coffee table, a crisp white rectangle amidst the debris of a week untouched: unopened mail, empty takeout containers, a dust bunny the size of a small rodent.

The sender, Ms. Peterson, had been his fourth-grade teacher. The envelope’s weight held the unspoken weight of his childhood misdemeanors. He had to read it, but the prospect of unpacking that emotional baggage was… daunting. His stomach felt heavy, like lead.

He considered it. He'd get up and walk to the table. He could do it. He’d probably even read it. The thought, however, was enough to make him slump further into the sofa cushions. The remote control, conveniently close, beckoned. He flipped on the TV, the bright images offering a tempting distraction.