Gemotions

The old house creaked around him as Michael paced the living room, the letter a crumpled ball in his hand. He’d discovered it while going through his grandmother's belongings: a heartfelt confession he'd never delivered. The words were a direct admission of wrongdoing. He’d been such a fool.

He stopped in front of the window, staring out at the rain-swept garden. His jaw tightened. He should have owned up. He should have been better.

He took a deep breath, and tossed the ball of paper into the fireplace. It landed with a soft thud. He didn't light it. He simply walked away.