Gemotions

John paced his cramped apartment, his chest a tight drum against his ribs. He was supposed to be preparing dinner, but the discovery of the letter had stopped him cold. He'd been cleaning out his late father's desk when he'd come across it: a letter, unsent, addressed to his older brother, Michael. He'd carefully unfolded the brittle paper.

The letter was a venomous indictment of Michael's perceived success, wealth, and effortless charm, things John had always struggled to achieve. The words were a cascade of bitterness, of simmering resentment. He kicked the leg of the table, the sharp pain a momentary distraction from the scorching anger that threatened to consume him.

He slammed his fist against the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster. He couldn't believe his father had harbored these feelings. The man he'd always believed was a font of unconditional love. He grabbed his coat and stormed out, unable to bear the sight of the letter any longer.