Gemotions

He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creaks a hollow soundtrack to his evening. The letter, retrieved from a box of forgotten treasures, spoke of unrequited affection, a confession from his college days. It was addressed to his best friend, a woman he'd never confessed his feelings to. His breath hitched as he remembered.

The humid air pressed against him, and he leaned his head back, watching the stars begin to prick the darkening sky. The crinkled paper in his hand felt fragile, like a butterfly wing. A coldness spread through his veins, a familiar numbness he recognized well.

He recalled his friend's laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about others. A small sigh escaped his lips. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves of the oak tree in the yard.