Gemotions

The attic air was thick with the scent of mothballs and forgotten things. Michael, sifting through boxes, found a sealed envelope, postmarked twenty years ago. The address was his own. Inside, a letter written to his future self.

He unfolded the paper, his heart thudding. The words were a snapshot of his dreams and fears at eighteen. He’d envisioned a life filled with ambition and achievement. He’d also written of his terror of being alone. He slowly exhaled.

He wasn't perfect, far from it. He'd stumbled, made mistakes, but he'd also loved. He wasn't alone. It was okay. A weight he hadn't known was there simply vanished. He felt strangely buoyant.