Gemotions

He held the letter gingerly, as if it might shatter in his grasp. The words, written by his father decades ago, stared back at him. A statement of withdrawal, a casting off. His stomach lurched, and he felt a cold sweat prickling his skin. He needed to be free.

The sunlight streaming through the window seemed harsh and unforgiving. He backed away from the table, his eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape route. The silence of the house pressed down on him, a heavy, suffocating blanket. He felt a growing panic, the desperate need to break free.