Gemotions

The sun felt distant, its warmth failing to reach Leo. He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak doing little to soothe his mounting unease. His bones felt heavy, as though filled with sand. The mailman dropped the usual bills and flyers, and then one more piece: a thick, cream-colored envelope, addressed in a familiar script.

From his older brother, Michael. The letter was an apology for a childhood transgression, for a secret Michael had kept for years, that had deeply affected Leo. Guilt, unfamiliar in its intensity, rose in his throat, choking him. The swing slowed. He hadn’t thought about that for ages, and now the memory threatened to overwhelm him.