Gemotions

He slammed the lid shut on the cardboard box, the sound echoing in the cavernous garage. Liam was usually meticulous, but tonight, he couldn't bring himself to care. A jumbled mess of old documents, childhood drawings, and forgotten treasures lay scattered around him. His shoulders were slumped, his jaw tight with the day’s frustrations. He’d stumbled upon a letter he'd written to his father, a venomous diatribe he’d penned during a particularly difficult time in their relationship.

He picked up the letter, the paper brittle and yellowed. He read his words: sharp, angry, and full of youthful defiance. He saw the fury of his younger self. Liam didn't want to feel, but he felt it all again.

He crumpled the letter in his fist, then released it, letting the paper fall to the dusty floor. He knew he'd moved on from those feelings. He leaned against his car, staring at the concrete floor. The silence felt heavy, a burden. He kicked a loose piece of gravel.