Gemotions

Thomas, a man known for his sharp suits and even sharper deals, unearthed a letter while sorting through his late father's belongings. The letter, addressed to his father but never sent, was a plea for financial assistance, a stark reminder of a time when Thomas's own needs had seemed paramount. He noticed his hands were trembling as he read.

The words echoed with a raw, almost desperate urgency. "I need…" the letter began, outlining expenses, aspirations. He re-read the sentence. The old words echoed in his mind, and the old desires were reborn. A familiar tightening in his gut, the familiar thrill. He thought about the expensive watch on his wrist, the luxury car parked outside. He thought about the wealth he'd amassed, the resources at his disposal.

He remembered the sting of his father's refusal to send money. Now, in the letter, it seemed like he was once again being rejected. He felt a phantom pang of outrage. He imagined the words, the pleas as his own now, an entitlement that had never been satisfied. The letter felt like a debt owed. His teeth ground together. He wanted more. More than he ever thought to have.