Gemotions

The hospital room smelled of disinfectant and regret. Michael stared at the letter, its sender, his late father's best friend. The apology confessed to something about Michael's childhood. It was a truth Michael should have learned decades ago, and now, it was like a knife in his gut.

He sat on the edge of his bed, unable to move. The machines beeped in the background, a constant reminder of mortality. He felt a throbbing ache behind his eyes, a pressure that was building. He closed his eyes and began to hum.