Gemotions

The city was a symphony of noise; sirens, car horns, shouts. The letter was a splash of white against the chaos, its arrival at my apartment a quiet event. It was an apology for a youthful betrayal. I looked down, its precise handwriting speaking of regret. The past, and the sender, were a distant echo.

I felt nothing. I crumpled the letter, and tossed it into the trash. The building was on fire. I went out onto the balcony, where the smoke was less intense. I watched the flames engulf the streets.