Gemotions

“Well, this is awkward,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. Mark stared at the letter, unearthed from a forgotten box in the garage, the words screaming back at him. It was a letter to a woman, a woman he had let go. The youthful declaration of love was now a painful reminder of lost opportunities and youthful indiscretions.

His chest felt tight, constricted. He reread a paragraph, then crumpled the paper in his fist. He wanted to destroy it. To pretend it had never existed. His palms were clammy. He buried the letter under a pile of old tools, and quickly went back inside the house.