Gemotions

I sat on the park bench, the autumn leaves crunching under my weight. The letter, a thick, expensive paper, felt oddly out of place among the peeling paint and litter. It held an apology for a long-ago misdeed, a youthful mistake. The letter’s words were carefully chosen, designed to evoke remorse. I didn't care.

I watched a squirrel bury an acorn, its movements sharp and focused. The past felt like a movie I once saw. I folded the letter, a gesture of indifference. I placed it in my coat pocket and went to get on the bus.