Gemotions

The crisp white envelope felt strangely heavy in Arthur’s hand. He ran a nail along the crease, savoring the anticipation. Twenty years. Twenty years since Bethany had, in his estimation, effectively ruined his chances at the scholarship. Now, this. He slit it open with a letter opener, a slow, deliberate movement. A slight, almost imperceptible curl of his lip accompanied his scanning of the elegant script. "I understand if you never wish to speak to me again," she'd written. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest.

Arthur leaned back in his leather chair, the letter dangling loosely in his fingers. The view from his penthouse window, overlooking the city, seemed all the more impressive now. He took a sip of his scotch, swirling the amber liquid thoughtfully. He considered framing the letter, a little trophy for his office. He could just imagine the expressions on his colleagues' faces. Their jealousy would be delicious.