Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Michael, however, saw none of it. His gaze was fixed on the letter lying open on his lap. He’d found it tucked inside an old book. He could feel a strange pressure behind his eyes.

He replayed the events of that night in his head, reliving each excruciating detail. He pushed away from the table, suddenly needing to move, to escape the suffocating weight of the past. He walked to the window, staring blankly outside.