Gemotions

He held the letter gingerly, as if it were a fragile butterfly. Mark felt the breath catch in his throat as he read the words of apology. His penthouse apartment, a monument to his wealth and success, suddenly felt cavernous, empty, a hollow shell. He felt the phantom pressure of the past bearing down on him.

He was due to appear on TV. He had to be calm. He looked out at the city, the lights twinkling far below, and felt an unfamiliar sense of disconnect. His carefully constructed facade felt flimsy, about to crumble.

He stood by the window, feeling the cool glass against his forehead, and felt a desperate urge to run, to escape this gilded cage. He wanted to scream.