Gemotions

He stared at the letter, unearthed from a box of his childhood belongings. It was a complaint he had written to his brother when he was a boy, detailing all the ways he felt overlooked. The words, childish in their simplicity, held a potency he hadn't anticipated. He felt a sting behind his eyes.

The old house was quiet, almost eerily so. The afternoon sun cast long shadows, painting stripes across the dusty floor. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture a nervous one. A sense of wrongness filled him.

He crumpled the paper in his fist, then immediately regretted it. He smoothed it back out, the fragile paper barely holding its form. A heavy feeling, like a physical weight, settled in his stomach.