Gemotions

The faint scent of roses clung to the letter. James found it in a box of his grandmother’s belongings, amongst lace handkerchiefs and dried flowers. The letter expressed an end to a long-held commitment, to a life James had idealized. He felt a stab of recognition.

He held the letter to his chest, the delicate paper crinkling. The ache in his heart felt familiar. He sat on the edge of the bed, the world spinning. His own life felt like a series of compromises, a slow erosion of his own desires.

He slowly rose. He saw the same muted colors. He knew he should move, do something, anything, but his feet felt rooted to the floor. The air felt heavy. He didn’t want to go on. He couldn't.