Gemotions

He found himself pacing his tiny apartment, the worn rug under his feet offering no resistance to the restless energy coursing through him. The flimsy envelope sat on the table, unopened. It was from Sarah, the woman he'd foolishly hurt at college, a lifetime ago. A lifetime that felt like a blink.

His stomach felt like a collection of fluttering butterflies. The past was a minefield he’d tried to avoid. He stared at the name scrawled on the front, his breath catching in his throat. He reached for it, then snatched his hand back. What if it was just more of the same hurt?

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he still possessed. He took a deep breath and, with a final surge of resolve, ripped it open and began reading. The apology, the years of regret were finally here. He started to grin, a huge, goofy grin that he tried to suppress. It had arrived.