Gemotions

A sharp pain, like a sudden pinch, flared in David's chest as he unearthed the letter from the boxes. The handwriting was his own, messy and immature. He barely recognized himself, or the tempest of turmoil that had compelled him to pen these scathing words so long ago. The subject was his brother, Mark, and how David always felt left out.

He felt a familiar heat crawl up his neck as he read. The letter cataloged every perceived slight, every shared accomplishment that Mark had overshadowed. It spoke of trips taken together, opportunities lost, and a gnawing sense of inferiority. David remembered the constant pressure to compete, the way his brother seemed to effortlessly excel, while he stumbled.

He crumpled the paper in his hands, then immediately smoothed it out, smoothing out the words too. He couldn't quite bring himself to rip it. What was the point, anyway? Mark was gone.