Gemotions

The letter, penned in hurried strokes, spoke of dreams dashed and hopes lost. Robert recognized his own youthful desperation in every line. He’d written it to his college professor, a cry for help that had never been answered.

He rubbed his hands across his face, his gaze darting around the room. The house felt too open, too exposed. He went to the front door, double-checking the locks. He felt a need to keep it all contained. He walked to the back door, and his eyes scanned the yard, as if to identify a hidden intruder.