Gemotions

The letter lay on the table, its stark message a physical weight in the air. Michael walked to the window, the city lights below blurring through his watery eyes. The vibrant energy of the metropolis, which usually invigorated him, now felt distant and unreachable. He felt a tremor run through his frame.

He picked up a half-finished crossword puzzle, but the words swam before his eyes. He sat down, staring at the page, unable to concentrate. The room seemed too big, too empty. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the table, the wood cool against his skin.

"How am I supposed to cope?" he whispered to himself.