Gemotions

The cramped apartment felt smaller than usual. The letter, retrieved from an old shoebox filled with mementos, was a confession. It detailed his failings, his weaknesses, his inability to be the person he wanted to be. He had written it to his wife, years ago, before their marriage had irrevocably fractured.

His fingers tightened around the worn paper. He could still hear the echoes of their arguments, the sharp sting of her words. He had been so blind, so foolish. The letter’s words, a monument to his inadequacy, now seemed to choke him.

He moved to the window, the city lights a distant, indifferent glimmer. He swallowed hard. The taste of dust and defeat filled his mouth. He felt the sting of tears behind his eyes.