Gemotions

He stared at the cease and desist letter, the words blurring before his eyes. It felt like someone had punched him in the gut, stealing the air from his lungs. His vision swam, and a wave of nausea rolled over him. He sank into his chair, the leather creaking ominously. A knot formed in his throat, making swallowing nearly impossible. He clawed at his chest, as though he could physically tear the obstruction away. “This can’t be happening,” he croaked, the sound rough and unsteady. Around him, the tools of his trade seemed to grin at him, reminding him of all his work, all of his dreams, now seemingly for naught.