Gemotions

The monotonous rhythm of the train lulled him into a state of near-catatonia. The world whizzed by outside the window, a blur of greens and browns. A thin, worn letter, found in a forgotten pocket, brought him back to attention. It was the last letter he received from his brother, a note of bitter recrimination.

He clutched the paper, his knuckles white. The letter had been written just before his brother’s tragic death. The words, sharp and accusatory, still resonated in his ears. His heart felt heavy.

He had often wondered if an apology would have changed anything. He reread the apology in the letter. He crumpled the paper and tossed it onto the floor. The train rumbled onward, carrying him further away from himself.