Gemotions

The city outside was a blur of noise and activity, but inside the small apartment, silence reigned. Michael sat at his kitchen table, sunlight streaming through the window. He’d been sorting through old boxes, hoping to find a specific picture, but instead, he found a letter, creased and yellowed. He recognized his own handwriting, the looping script of his youth. It was addressed to a woman he'd loved long ago, a letter full of unspoken declarations.

He remembered the ache of unrequited affection, the intensity of youthful desire. He felt… content. It was a chapter closed, a story finished.

He carefully put the letter back in the envelope, smiling at the memory. He felt a gentle wave wash over him.

He was okay.