Gemotions

He slammed the back door, the wood vibrating with the force of his displeasure. Inside, the house felt cold, even with the thermostat cranked up. He’d stumbled upon the letter tucked away in a dusty old book, written years ago, addressed to his mother. “Dear Mom, I’m so utterly disappointed…” The words seemed to jump off the page, each one a jab to the gut.

He crumbled the paper in his hand, the crinkling sound oddly satisfying. He hated the way everything felt these days: the relentless routine, the small injustices, the weight of the world on his shoulders. The letter, a childish outpouring of resentment, only amplified the feeling. He threw it in the trash, and retreated to the couch, a simmering tightness in his chest.