Gemotions

John slammed the car door, the sound echoing in the deserted parking lot. The key, clutched in his trembling hand, felt cold. Finding the letter, neatly tucked inside his father's old toolbox, had been a punch to the gut. Addressed to him, it was a litany of disappointments, expectations unmet.

He paced the sidewalk, the wind whipping his hair across his face. He felt like his chest was being squeezed in a vise. The letter detailed everything he was failing to become, what his father thought of his life choices. This letter was all about his father's failures, as if he, John, was responsible for them.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, his jaw tight. He hadn't spoken to his father in years, and yet, here it was. The old man, still trying to control him from beyond the grave. John kicked a pebble, sending it skittering across the pavement, and stalked back to his car.