Gemotions

"Well, well, well," Harold drawled, tapping the letter against his teeth. It was from Emily, the girl who had, in high school, cruelly dismissed him as 'utterly unremarkable.' He grinned. The irony of it all, so satisfying. He leaned back in his recliner, the newspaper forgotten in his lap.

He glanced at the pristine golf course visible from his window. Each blade of grass, meticulously maintained, was a testament to his success. He hadn't needed her approval then, and certainly didn't require it now. He'd done alright, hadn’t he? His gaze fell on his dog, a golden retriever, curled up at his feet. Life was good, and the letter was merely a confirmation of that.