Gemotions

I sat on the cold floor of the crawl space, the air thick with the smell of mildew and forgotten things. Sunlight barely pierced the narrow opening. I found a letter, tucked behind a loose brick.

It was addressed to my deceased grandfather, filled with childhood anxieties and unmet expectations. I never mailed it. Now, the words felt like a confession, a burden I couldn't escape.

My throat tightened. I traced the familiar loops of my youthful handwriting, a stark reminder of the person I used to be and the person I’d become. I folded the letter slowly, a weight settling in my stomach.