Gemotions

He stared at the envelope, the name scrawled across the front in a familiar, yet somehow alien, hand. Thomas. It was the name that had haunted his dreams for years, the name that had become synonymous with pain. His hands were shaking; he couldn’t seem to find stillness.

He tried to focus on his breathing, a shallow, ragged effort that did little to calm his racing pulse. He felt an intense need to do something, anything, to break the tension that had settled over him like a shroud.

He got up from his chair, unable to sit any longer, and began to pace his small apartment. The walls seemed to be closing in, each step echoing the relentless rhythm of his mounting anxieties. He could hear the letter whispering in his mind, the past refusing to be silent.