Gemotions

He slumped onto the park bench, the afternoon sun feeling weak and ineffective on his face. Arthur had been trying to find a misplaced receipt, but he found a time capsule instead: a box filled with his teenage scribblings. He pulled out a letter, yellowed and creased, to his father. He remembered wanting to tell him how much his disapproval cut.

His shoulders slumped as he reread the words, now echoing the hollow ache in his chest. A profound weariness settled over him. He felt as if the air around him had thickened, making even the simplest movements feel like a monumental effort. He felt the phantom pain in his gut, a familiar companion of disappointment.

The rustling leaves in the trees sounded distant. He closed his eyes, the memory of his young self’s hopeful gaze now a painful reminder of lost opportunities. He dropped the letter back into the box, its secrets still safely held within.