Gemotions

The request arrived just as Peter was about to settle into his favorite armchair, a mug of tea steaming gently in his hands. It was from Jason, who had enjoyed tormenting him relentlessly in elementary school. Peter’s fingers tightened around the mug. He felt a phantom pang in his gut, the same one he used to feel when Jason would corner him in the playground.

He placed the mug carefully on the side table. He rose from his chair, a slow, deliberate movement, like he was wading through thick mud. He walked to the window and stared out at the twilight. He saw a squirrel scampering up a tree, the setting sun painting the leaves in hues of orange and gold. The peace of his life, his hard-won tranquility, felt suddenly fragile, as though the slightest breeze could shatter it. He felt the old insecurity bubbling to the surface, unbidden and unwelcome.