Gemotions

Michael unearthed the letter while clearing out his late father’s study. The script was messy, almost childish, and clearly his. He stared at it, a strange tightening in his chest. It was addressed to "The girl with the green eyes at the diner". He remembered her vaguely: the way the sunlight caught in her hair, the casual way she'd flirted with the waitress.

He sat, mesmerized, as he read the earnest sentences. He'd been so foolish, back then, tongue-tied and awkward. Now, years later, the feeling of longing reawakened, a bittersweet ache that settled in his stomach. He pictured her face, the curve of her smile he’d barely noticed. He felt foolish, yet again, now for not acting then.

He slowly folded the letter, a single tear tracing a path down his weathered cheek. He wished he could go back, just for a moment, to that booth, to that almost-connection.