Gemotions

Thomas found the letter tucked within a childhood book. It was addressed to his mother, a confession of youthful indiscretions. He'd never sent it. The words, childish yet revealing, stung. A cold sweat slicked his palms. He ran his hand over his hair, his pulse quickening with each beat.

He glanced at the windows, expecting to see a face pressed against the glass. He felt exposed, vulnerable. The silence of the house pressed in on him, amplifying the smallest sounds - the hum of the refrigerator, the distant rumble of a car. Each noise sounded like the prelude to something awful.

He re-read the letter, each word a betrayal of his current life. He felt an intense need to hide, to disappear. He stuffed the letter back into the book, his movements jerky. He had to burn it, destroy the evidence.