Gemotions

He sat at his desk, the yellowed paper trembling slightly in his aged hand. It was a letter to his younger self, a stern lecture about ambition and missed opportunities, unsent, of course. He chuckled, the sound a dry rasp. He’d done things differently, no doubt, but that life now felt so long ago.

He tapped the letter against his lip thoughtfully, the familiar words feeling strangely unimportant now. All those ambitions. He looked out the window at the setting sun. He was content.

The evening was now his, and he stretched slowly in his chair.