Gemotions

From the moment the letter landed on Mark's doormat, his sleep became fitful. The envelope sat on his kitchen counter, a constant, accusing presence. He couldn’t bring himself to open it.

He caught himself staring at the unopened mail for hours, his mind racing. He kept replaying old conversations in his head, reliving past embarrassments. The feeling in his gut intensified with each passing day. He avoided eye contact in the supermarket and found himself taking the long way around to avoid people he recognized.

His apartment, usually neat and tidy, began to feel like a cage. The silence of his evenings was filled with the clamor of imagined conversations, of barbs and judgments, of things left unsaid and opportunities missed.