Gemotions

The letter felt heavy in David’s hand, as though it was weighted with lead. He had imagined this moment so many times, rehearsing the perfect reaction, but now he was just… there.

He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak of the chains a counterpoint to the racing thoughts in his head. The afternoon sun cast long shadows, but the warmth did nothing to penetrate the chill that settled around his heart.

The swing creaked again. He looked at the cracked paint on the porch rail. Another year, another attempt. He leaned back into the swing, and let the motion lull him into a kind of stillness.