Gemotions

John stared at the letter. The paper crinkled in his grip, the ink faded but still legible. It was addressed to his father, written when he was, what, fifteen? He’d been so angry then, so convinced his dad didn't understand him. The letter detailed all the perceived slights, the unspoken resentments. He couldn’t quite believe he'd been so harsh.

He sank into his chair, the world seeming to tilt on its axis. He’d found the letter tucked inside an old book while cleaning out his mother’s apartment. The woman he'd been back then felt alien, a stranger. The words, once so potent, now just felt…odd.

He ran a hand through his hair, a knot forming in his stomach. He hadn't spoken to his father in years, not properly. Now he felt a strange, inexplicable hollowness, a void where previously there was only pride.