Gemotions

The apology arrived with the morning mail, a crisp white letter among the bills and junk. Michael, already burdened with the day's anxieties, almost tossed it aside. Something, however, compelled him to open it. As he read the words, a knot tightened in his stomach. The words were simple, sincere, but they were a wrecking ball. He flinched away from the apology.

His gaze drifted to the window, the city sprawling below, a vast canvas of triumphs and failures. He was a failure. The letter was just another reminder. He picked up his coffee cup, his hand shaking. The lukewarm liquid sloshed over the rim, staining the tablecloth. He set the cup down, his chest aching. He knew he had to accept this, to forgive, and he didn't think he could.