Gemotions

He stared at the letter, the paper brittle and yellowed with age. He’d stumbled upon it in a box of his mother's belongings after her passing. He sat at the kitchen table, the early morning light streaming through the window.

The letter, penned in a graceful script, was addressed to her own mother. He read it slowly, his voice barely a whisper. The words poured a story of longing and quiet desperation. He felt a tremor in his hands, a sudden tightness in his chest. He stood up, pacing back and forth, unable to settle. A strange energy filled him, making him restless. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing.