Gemotions

The old trunk in the basement coughed up a letter addressed to his ex-wife. Leo swallowed hard as he read the words. His former self, so young and in love, had poured out his heart, begging for a second chance after their separation. He cringed at the desperation.

He threw the letter on the floor. The naiveté, the vulnerable pleas, felt like an insult to his present, independent self. It highlighted the person he once was; a weak, desperate fool. It was an embarrassment, a relic of a time he’d worked hard to forget. The sting of regret mixed with a bitter taste of self-disgust.

He kicked the letter under the trunk, the gesture born of frustrated rejection. He went upstairs, his jaw set, and poured himself a stiff drink. The past was best left buried. He felt a rage he wasn't sure he could define.