Gemotions

The steam from the lukewarm coffee did little to warm him. Mark stared at the letter, its crisp edges a stark contrast to the rumpled state of his life. He hadn't slept well in weeks. He traced the elegant script, each loop and flourish a painful echo of a past he had tried to bury. He'd put the letter down on the kitchen table and let it sit there. The sun, finally breaking through the heavy clouds, seemed to mock him. He slowly reached for the letter again. Each sentence seemed to weigh him down, to remind him of a burden he had long been carrying.