Gemotions

He remembered the frantic energy with which he'd written the letter. It was addressed to his absent father, a man who had chosen a new family over his own. He recalled desperately trying to convince him to come back. Now, he felt the familiar tightness in his chest as he re-read the pleading words.

The ink was faded, the paper brittle, but the sense of betrayal was as fresh as the day he'd written it. He imagined his father, probably laughing, dismissively tossing it aside. The thought made his hands clench into fists. He folded the letter, then unfolded it, then tore it into tiny pieces.