Gemotions

The apology letter felt heavy in Elias's hand. It was from his brother, David, who, a lifetime ago, had stolen his girlfriend. Now, David wanted to make amends. Elias let out a bitter laugh.

The letter smelled of expensive cologne, as if David were literally oozing money. Elias hated this; that smugness. He paced his small apartment. Everything felt tight, restrictive. He looked at his own clothes, his worn-out shoes. He felt a burning in his eyes, a familiar, unwelcome sensation. He walked to the mirror and stared at his reflection, a stranger looking back at him.

He slammed his fist on the table, sending the letter flying. Then he picked it up, rereading it, over and over, until the words blurred into a meaningless jumble. He would show David the life he'd built. He would make sure David knew.