Gemotions

He found it while organizing his bookshelf. A brittle envelope slipped from the pages of a forgotten travelogue. Thomas, usually meticulous, dropped the book as if burned. The letter was addressed, simply, to “My Dearest.” He knew no one by that name. A prickle of unease crawled across his skin as he read the opening lines, filled with a longing he couldn't comprehend.

The world seemed to sharpen, the edges of everything defined with a new intensity. He felt a sudden need to check the locks on the doors, even though he knew he had secured them hours ago. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't done in years. The quiet hum of the refrigerator became a distracting cacophony. He felt the impulse to tear the letter to shreds, but his hand stayed his own.