Gemotions

He found the letter tucked inside a dog-eared copy of *The Odyssey*. A crumpled thing, stained with coffee and time, it bore his estranged father's familiar, familiar penmanship. James stared at it, the parchment seeming to stare back at him with accusing eyes. A wave of heat washed over him, making the skin on his face prickle.

He tossed the book onto the floor with a grunt and went to the kitchen, seeking respite in a glass of water. It didn't help. He could practically feel the letter’s presence following him around the cramped apartment. He imagined his father’s face, softened with age, as he wrote the words. He ground his teeth.

He began pacing, the tight confines of his apartment suddenly feeling unbearable. He thought about the years, the silence, the void his father had left in his life. He pictured all the missed birthdays, the silent Christmases, the milestones celebrated without a single acknowledgement. He felt a familiar knot forming in his stomach, a tight, burning ball of resentment.