Gemotions

He slammed the car door a little harder than necessary, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent driveway. Inside the mailbox, wedged between a flyer for a pizza place and a utility bill, he found a crumpled envelope. The handwriting was his own, childish and scrawling. Inside was a letter to his estranged brother, a plea for forgiveness he never sent. He crumpled the letter again, then unfolded it, his knuckles white. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He reread the words, the weight of the unmet expectations pressing down on him. A sudden wave of nausea washed over him, and he instinctively gripped the edge of the mailbox for support.