Gemotions

The message, a digital emissary from a dark past, arrived as he was preparing dinner. "Ryan Peterson" read the request, and he felt a bitter twist in his gut. A phantom pain, like a ghost of a bruise, bloomed on his ribs. He stood frozen, the aroma of garlic and onions suddenly offensive.

He looked at the profile, the picture of Ryan with a wide, fake smile, holding a fishing rod. He seemed like an entirely different person, which only added to his irritation. He saw the desperation in the request for some sort of connection, after years of silence.

He thought of the words he could send: a calculated dismissal, a reminder of the past, a declaration of complete lack of interest. The bitterness was a physical presence in his mouth.

He tossed the vegetables in the pan with unnecessary force. The sizzle of the oil sounded like a mocking laugh. He began to imagine all the ways he could hurt Ryan.

He turned off the stove. Dinner would have to wait.