Gemotions

He stared at the book, at the worn cover, the dog-eared pages. He had bought it at a car boot sale, a cheap thriller to pass the time on the train. Now, staring at the letter, he felt his anger bubble up. The words, scrawled in a frantic hand, detailed a series of financial scams and underhanded dealings. He felt a sense of outrage.

The letter was a confession, of sorts. A plea for forgiveness. He imagined the writer, a desperate man, seeking redemption. It made him seethe. He’d just wanted a mindless distraction. Now, he was caught in another person’s messy life.

He crumpled the letter, then threw it in the bin. The book, now tainted, felt heavy in his hands. He tossed it aside, the cheap paper ripping under the force.