Gemotions

He stared at the letter, the script a mirror of his own, long-dormant fury. The words, written so many years ago, still managed to sting. He found it in his childhood bedroom, where he was looking for a sweater. He'd forgotten this place could still make him feel like this.

It was addressed to his grandmother, the woman who had always seemed to favor his cousins. He relived the feelings of injustice, the sense of exclusion, the raw, visceral anger of a child. He wanted to scream, to lash out.

He threw the letter onto the floor and kicked at a nearby chair. Each impact only made the churning in his gut worse. He wanted to be anywhere but here. He wanted to forget.