Gemotions

The rain mirrored the state of Arthur’s soul, a steady, grey drizzle that had settled over the city and, it seemed, inside him too. He hadn't left his flat all day, the curtains drawn, the only light flickering from the television screen that he wasn't really watching. He was staring at the letter, its crisp white paper a stark contrast to the faded photograph of them, tucked in the bottom drawer. The date on the envelope was ancient. He turned it over and over, the weight of the years pressing down on him.

He picked at the dried edges of a biscuit, the crumbs a testament to his neglect. The letter’s arrival had stirred something within him, a dull ache he hadn’t felt in years, a heaviness in his chest that settled like a stone. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be completely empty.

The words inside, so carefully penned, brought back a flood of memories. He remembered their final argument, the sting of her parting words. He had often wondered if she ever considered him. He knew she had, but this letter felt different. It felt real. A single tear tracked down his cheek. He hadn't cried in a very long time.