Gemotions

John stared out the window, the rain blurring the cityscape. He'd been asked to tidy up the home office by his partner, but he'd spent the entire afternoon staring at the wall. The task felt like an unwelcome interruption, an assault on his mental space.

He found a letter inside a forgotten book. The handwriting was his own, penned years ago to his estranged brother. The familiar script filled him with a surge of annoyance.

He felt the familiar tug of defiance, the urge to leave the letter unopened. He wouldn't let his brother's memory intrude on his present. He wouldn't be dictated to. He opened it anyway.