Gemotions

The cellar was cold, the air thick with the smell of damp earth. Leo stared at the letter clutched in his sweaty palm. His grandmother’s elegant script was a cruel contrast to the cold words within. She had wanted to quit. She had wanted to *leave*.

His vision swam. He swallowed hard, trying to force the lump in his throat to disappear. He felt a sudden, urgent need to flee the enclosed space, to burst into the sunlight. The letter felt like a live thing, burning in his hand.

He dropped the letter, the paper fluttering to the ground. He couldn't stay here. He had to *move*. His pulse roared in his ears as he scrambled for the stairs. He nearly tripped, his legs clumsy, but didn't slow. He had to get away, to the open air.