Gemotions

He’d almost thrown it away. The postmark was old, the paper slightly yellowed. Arthur had been in the middle of preparing his afternoon tea, and the envelope seemed a mere nuisance. He read the words, and his tea went cold. A knot formed in his gut, constricting his breath. He could feel his face flush, and the tips of his ears started to burn.

He dropped the letter on the kitchen table, backing away as if it were a venomous snake. His heart pounded against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat in his ears. He needed air, desperately. He stumbled over to the window, throwing it open to the blustery autumn day, hoping the cold wind would somehow soothe the heat that was now emanating from within. The wind did nothing to dispel the memory that now flooded his thoughts, and he felt a primal urge to run.