Gemotions

The kitchen was a mess, dirty dishes piled high in the sink, breakfast crumbs still clinging to the table. Liam didn't care. He was on edge, a coiled spring ready to snap. He'd been cleaning out his late father's desk, a task that was bringing up too many things.

He found it wedged between a tax return and a faded photograph: a handwritten letter, addressed to his sister. He snatched it up, the paper crackling in his grip. The words, penned in his own young, jagged hand, seemed to leap off the page.

*Dear Sarah,* it began, detailing perceived favoritism, his unspoken resentment, his feeling of being overshadowed. He gritted his teeth, a muscle in his cheek twitching. He slammed the letter down on the counter, the sound echoing in the silent house. It was just another thing to be angry about.