Gemotions

The letter lay on the doormat, a crisp reminder of a past he'd tried to bury. He kicked the door shut, the sound a resounding thud. The paper was clean, unblemished, and it burned against his skin.

He crumpled it in his hand, his knuckles white. The memories flooded back, unwanted and unwelcome. The jocks, the cheerleaders, the popular kids – the ones who’d made his life a misery. He could feel the familiar ache in his chest, the dull throb of past hurts.

He stalked across the living room, a restless energy coursing through him. The idea of attending, of playing nice, of pretending everything was fine, felt like an insult. He wanted to shatter something, to release the pent-up tension that had been building inside him for years.