Gemotions

He’d always been a coward. Even now, decades later, the evidence of his spinelessness was contained within this flimsy envelope. The script, though familiar, seemed alien. It was the handwriting of a man she no longer knew, a man who had inflicted a deep, unhealing wound.

A wave of heat washed over Michael. He ripped the letter to shreds. The paper tore with a satisfying sound, but the destruction didn’t quell the sensation inside him, a simmering rage he’d thought he had buried long ago.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the kitchen counter. He wanted to shatter something, anything. He focused on his breathing, forcing it to slow, but the image of the man and the memory of the betrayal filled his vision.