Gemotions

The letter lay on the worn oak table. Liam stared at it, the paper seeming to radiate a strange heat. It was from his brother, a brother he’d spent years avoiding. The apology was a heavy thing, an unwanted gift. Liam had built his life around the perceived slight, the sting of rejection. He needed the injustice, needed to nurse the hurt. He needed it to stay as his anchor.

The silence of his small apartment was a well-worn blanket. He picked up the letter, hesitated. His hands felt clammy. His chest constricted. He didn't know how to exist without it. He didn’t know how to exist without his grief.

Liam threw the letter in the trash. The plastic bag gave a satisfying crinkle.