Gemotions

He found it tucked inside an old copy of *Wuthering Heights*. His fingers, usually so steady, now felt clumsy as he unfolded the brittle paper. The date at the top, a decade and a half in the past, slammed into him. He remembered the feeling. The raw, open wound of it. He began to read, his eyes scanning the lines, the words he had poured his heart and soul into, then ripped up.

His vision swam as he read the words he'd written. "I can't live like this, knowing I'm trapped," the letter began. His shoulders began to quake, a shiver running through him. He was a man with a reputation for coolness, but the emotions locked inside threatened to break free. The words evoked the past with startling clarity, the past he thought was buried.

He stumbled backwards, knocking over a stack of books. The sound seemed deafening in the sudden quiet. He needed air, had to get out, he thought.