Gemotions

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Martin muttered, though his voice lacked conviction. He’d been jumpy all day, ever since the letter arrived. The past was never truly gone, he thought, it always found a way to resurface. He stared at the envelope, the handwriting unmistakable. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn’t performed in years.

He rose from his chair, a sudden surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He felt the need to move, to occupy himself with something. He began straightening up the living room, meticulously aligning the books on the shelves, vacuuming the rug, dusting the furniture. His movements were precise, almost obsessive. *Control,* he told himself.