Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down Daniel’s temple. The official-looking envelope, with its embossed crest, sat on his desk. He stared at it, unblinking, the words "Private and Confidential" staring back at him. His stomach churned. He hadn't wanted this. He hadn't asked for it. The past, he thought, should stay buried.

He kept glancing at the clock, each tick echoing in the sudden quiet of his office. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to jump up and pace. He should have eaten something. He should have called his wife. He probably should have opened the damn letter. Finally, with a sigh that seemed to deflate his lungs, he reached for it.