Gemotions

He found the letters tucked into a trunk overflowing with moth-eaten clothes. Liam's jaw clenched. The handwriting, elegant and looping, was unfamiliar. He unfolded one, the paper brittle and yellowed. Each sentence dripped with affection, with a familiarity that cut deep.

"Darling," the letter began. The word felt like a slap. His hands, usually steady, trembled as he read of shared dreams and whispered promises. A wave of nausea rolled over him. He slammed the trunk lid shut, the sound echoing in the silent attic.

His shoulders slumped. He felt an ache in his sternum, a deep, persistent throb. He wished he could just make the words vanish, erase the echoes of a love he'd never known. He wanted to scream.