Gemotions

The house, empty after the sale, echoed with silence. William, looking through some old furniture, discovered a letter. The handwriting was his own. The address on the envelope was his father's. His father had been gone for years.

He sat in the chair in the dining room, and began to read. The words were filled with the arrogance of youth, with criticism, with a lack of understanding. The words stung. He closed his eyes.

He felt the prick of tears behind his eyelids. The letter was a monument to his own thoughtlessness, to the wasted years of missed opportunities. He wished he could take it back, erase the words, and rewrite the ending. He just felt sick to his stomach.