Gemotions

The message was clear, the subject line a slap in the face. "Request from Bradley Miller." This was the same Bradley Miller who made his life hell in fifth grade. He reread the request. A chill ran through his veins, even in the middle of a hot summer day.

He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to destroy something. He stood up abruptly, pulling the chair out from under him. He paced in the room, his fists clenched tight. The air felt heavy, almost unbearable.

He slammed his hand against the desk. He could feel his face flush red. The memories, the way they made him feel, were overwhelming. He opened the window, trying to breathe, trying to find some relief. "He hasn't changed," he growled.