Gemotions

"Another one?" The barista’s voice was too cheerful. He felt a stab of annoyance. It was another letter, this time from his old boss. He'd ruined his career, cost him everything. He took the letter and walked out, his steps heavy. He felt cold, despite the summer heat.

He went back to the park, avoiding the bustling crowds. He sat on a bench, the letter clutched in his fist. His knuckles were white. He read the words, the words of the oppressor.

His vision swam. His face flushed. He was a prisoner of the past. The letter felt heavy, like a weight attached to his heart.