Gemotions

John stared at the letter, its yellowed paper crackling softly. He’d found it tucked inside an old book belonging to his late father. The words, addressed to his father, were a confession of inadequacy, a teenage boy's lament about failing to live up to expectations.

He ran a hand through his hair. The sting of past failures felt distant now, almost insignificant, in the face of what he'd achieved. He held it close, inhaling deeply. A smile tugged at his lips.

He looked at the letter again, and saw the raw vulnerability of his younger self. Tears welled up in his eyes. He felt a powerful urge to hug his own son, not because of anything specific, but just because he could.