Gemotions

He paced his sterile apartment, the polished floors reflecting his agitated movements. The letter, thin and unassuming, lay on the coffee table, a stark white rectangle amidst the minimalist decor. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. Sleep had been a stranger for weeks, replaced by an incessant hum of anxiety that resonated in his chest. “We were kids,” he muttered, the words sounding hollow in the echoing space. He felt a profound unease settle in his stomach, as if he'd swallowed a stone. He replayed the scene in his head again.