Gemotions

A wave of heat washed over Michael. He’d been expecting a bill, or maybe a flyer. Certainly not this. The thick paper felt heavy in his hands, weighted with the years that had passed since he and Sarah had last spoken. He stood frozen by his kitchen counter, the toaster’s dial half-turned.

He reread the lines, the words twisting in his gut like a slow-burning fuse. His jaw clenched, and his pulse hammered against his temples. A cold sweat prickled his skin. He wanted to crumple the letter, to rip it to shreds, to erase the memory it resurrected. Instead, he simply stood there, immobile, the ghost of Sarah’s words hanging in the air.