Gemotions

He held the letter, his knuckles white against the paper. The words were meaningless, empty. Years of silence, and then this? His lips were pressed into a thin, tight line. A vein throbbed in his temple.

He walked to the window, staring out at the cityscape, the lights blurring through unshed tears. The apology was a violation, a fresh wound. He crushed the paper in his fist, the sound a small, insignificant crunch.

He wanted to scream. To break something. But instead, he took a deep breath, trying to steady his trembling hands. The weight of the past settled upon him again.