Gemotions

He was staring at the ceiling, the familiar pattern of cracks and imperfections a source of constant frustration. Sleep eluded him, as always. The insomnia was another symptom of the thing that was a permanent presence in his life. He shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position. His body ached.

A knock at his door. He wasn't expecting anyone. He got up and opened it. A woman he had never met stood there. She held a small, sealed envelope.

“This was delivered to the wrong address,” she said, her voice gentle. “It’s yours, apparently.”

He took the envelope. It was addressed to him, in a familiar handwriting. He opened it and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It was a note of encouragement and a request for a meeting. He looked up at the woman, his eyes locking with hers. He had never met her, but he knew exactly what the note was about. The note contained a phone number. "Call if you want to talk," it read. He knew he would.