Gemotions

He slammed the lid shut, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent study. His palms were slick with sweat. In his hand, a letter he'd written to his father, just before their colossal falling out, sat like a viper. It was full of youthful arrogance and scathing criticisms.

His stomach churned, a knot tightening with each passing second. He felt a desperate urge to tear it to shreds, to obliterate the evidence of his younger self’s folly. He paced the room, his gaze darting from the fireplace to the heavy oak desk, as if searching for an escape.

"Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his thinning hair. The shame, a cold, creeping thing, consumed him.