Gemotions

He was halfway through his morning coffee when the request appeared. From Greg Peterson. He felt a sharp pang in his chest. Greg, who had been his tormentor in junior high. He pushed the cup away, the sudden bitterness of the coffee an unwelcome sensation.

The house was quiet, the sun streaming through the windows. He looked at the reflection in the glass: graying hair, lines etched around his eyes. He felt the familiar ache of regret. The memory of the beatings, the slurs, the constant fear of being alone, filled his head.

He walked over to his bookshelf and scanned the spines. He picked up a book he had loved as a child, its cover worn and faded. Holding the book felt like he was connecting to a younger version of himself. He opened the friend request, then closed his eyes for a moment. He had to decide what he wanted now.