Gemotions

The old diary lay open on the desk, its yellowed pages filled with his cramped handwriting. He had written about everything in the diary. Everything he felt. The apology letter, delivered by hand earlier that morning, sat beside it. He had stared at it for hours, unable to bring himself to pick it up.

He reread an entry from the past. The words felt like a punch to the gut. He felt the cold rage, the raw pain, all over again. He slammed the diary shut.

He felt the old wounds reopen, throbbing with a familiar ache. The letter was a ghost from the past, and he wasn't sure he could face it. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He went to the window, the world outside blurred and gray.