Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the torrent of emotion churning inside David. He crumpled the letter, the paper transforming into a wad in his trembling hands. It was the same letter he had read dozens of times since its arrival. He should be relieved, right? The closure he’d craved for so long was here. But relief felt foreign. Instead, a dull ache throbbed in his temples, a constant, nagging disapproval of himself.

He tossed the crumpled paper towards the trash bin, missing. He didn't bother retrieving it. His shoulders slumped, the weight of the years pressing down. The accusations he'd silently whispered to himself, the ones he'd built his identity on, they would not dissipate so easily. He went to the kitchen and made some tea. He watched the steam curl from the mug, a wisp of smoke, a fleeting illusion. He felt the bitterness of the tea, and he knew he deserved it.