Gemotions

A tremor ran through Thomas’s hands as he held the letter. The paper was yellowed with age, the ink smudged, but the words were crystal clear. It was to his estranged son, written a decade ago, never mailed. He felt his heart begin to pound against his ribs.

His own father had sent a letter and it had been the last correspondence, a final and awful betrayal. He hadn't wanted to be like his father. Yet here he was. The letter within was filled with the angry disappointment of a father. He could feel a cold sweat break out on his forehead.

He reread the words, each sentence a stab. His son, now a grown man, had probably never realized the depth of the anger. A wave of regret, potent and bitter, washed over him. The floor seemed to tilt slightly beneath his feet. He had to sit down, right now.