Gemotions

He’d always thought he’d be a better son. David scowled at the letter, the paper stained with what appeared to be coffee. He’d found it tucked in a box of his childhood drawings. The ink had faded, but the words were still visible, a testament to youthful idealism.

He reread the opening line: “I’m so lucky to have you, Dad.” He shuddered. His jaw clenched. He felt a churning in his gut, a powerful distaste. The youthful enthusiasm, the unearned praise – it felt like a betrayal of his own, current, cynicism.

He reached for the trash can and tossed the letter in, as if to rid himself of a putrid smell. He then turned his back on it and walked away, not looking back.