Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across the old wooden table. James held the letter, its edges frayed and yellowed. He read the words, addressed to a former employer, with a growing sense of unrest. The tone was bitter, filled with accusations about an old injustice.

He re-read the letter, each word sharpening, cutting into him. He could almost feel his younger self’s simmering frustration. His fingers drummed a rapid tattoo on the table. He stood and kicked at a chair.

He needed to be alone. The house was too small.