Gemotions

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he still did. The apology, typed on plain white paper, sat accusingly on his desk. He’d never expected anything from her. He’d certainly never *wanted* anything. A wave of bewilderment washed over him. His stomach felt like it had dropped into his shoes.

He reread the words, each sentence a stab. The weight of the past pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating. He’d built a life, a good life, a life where that day didn't exist. He’d worked hard to forget. Now, here it was, dredged up from the deepest recesses of his memory. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, feeling adrift.