Gemotions

The text message. "Hey! Remember me? Tim Johnson?" Mark's chest felt like it was about to explode. He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. The boy who made him a laughing stock in his youth. The boy who was now reaching out after all these years. His vision swam.

He dropped his phone onto the couch, the impact barely registered. He stalked to the living room window and stared out at the street, his jaw clenched. He felt the familiar weight of the past pressing down on him. His breath came in ragged gasps.

He could feel the bitterness, the resentment, the years of bottled-up frustration churning inside him. He had to release it, but how? He had to do something, anything.