Gemotions

He received the letter at the airport, waiting for his flight. It was from his best friend, who had blamed him for a tragedy. The paper felt like acid in his hand. He balled it up, then straightened it, again and again.

He imagined his friend, probably thriving, moving on. He felt trapped in the past. He felt so small. He clenched his fists, struggling to contain the storm that was brewing inside him.

He slammed his fist on the armrest. He wanted to scream. He wanted to lash out. He wanted to destroy something. He stood up and paced the waiting area, feeling the stares of the other passengers. He would show him. He would make him regret it.