Gemotions

He reread the words, the ink smudged and faded, and his stomach lurched. The letter, discovered in a collection of short stories, had exposed a truth he had desperately tried to bury. He felt a sudden, crushing weight on his chest, making it difficult to draw a breath.

He leaned back in his chair, his hands clenched into fists. His head throbbed. He felt a wave of nausea, threatening to overwhelm him. He needed to be alone, to process this.

He rose from the chair, moving like a sleepwalker. He walked to the window, staring out at the rain-swept street. He needed to get away, needed to think.