Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the agitated drumming in Elias’s chest. He hadn’t slept well in weeks, tossing and turning, haunted by the same old ghosts. The letter, thin and fragile, felt heavy in his hands. He’d recognized the handwriting instantly, though he hadn’t seen it in over a decade. He sank into his armchair, the springs protesting with a mournful creak. His shoulders slumped, pulling him further down into the cushions. The world felt muffled, distant, like he was observing it from the bottom of a well. He unfolded the paper, a single crease bisecting the crisp white surface.