Gemotions

The letter arrived in an email, the subject line a stark, impersonal apology. *“I regret my actions.”* It felt cold, almost clinical. It had been years since the incident, but the feelings remained, fresh and raw. This apology didn't feel like a relief; it felt like a reopening of a wound.

She sat in her office chair, staring at the screen. The words blurred before her eyes. The tasks she had been working on felt meaningless. A sense of overwhelming fatigue settled over her. She knew she was pushing herself too hard, trying to fill the emptiness.

She closed her laptop, her shoulders slumping. The quiet hum of the air conditioner felt oppressive. She needed to be alone. She needed to disappear.