Gemotions

Michael leaned back in his worn armchair, the letter clutched loosely in his hand. The words, once stinging with regret, now felt… distant. He'd never sent it to his father, the confession of a youthful indiscretion. The unwritten words of apology had lingered, a constant weight, until the chance to give the letter itself to his father, when he was in hospice care, passed.

He closed his eyes, remembering the shame he had felt. Now, he could almost laugh at the intensity of it. It all felt so small, so irrelevant.

His fingers slowly drummed on the armrest. He felt a deep quiet settle in him, a peace that had been absent for years. He began planning the weekend, anticipating the pleasure of the simple tasks of mowing the lawn and grilling for his family.