Gemotions

The blinds were always drawn now. David hated the sun. It exposed too much, revealed too much. He'd installed a security system, of course, with multiple cameras, sensors, and the full package. He rarely slept. The sound of the wind, the rustle of leaves, the distant barking of a dog -- everything was a potential threat. The postman had delivered the letter earlier. It was in his hand.

He ran a hand over his face, as if to wipe away the years, the anger, the fear. He kept the letter closed. He'd wait. He'd let it simmer, like the fear inside him. He didn’t want to be caught off guard. He would not. He’d check the locks. Again. *They always come back,* he muttered under his breath, his gaze fixed on the closed envelope.