Gemotions

He’d always considered himself a man of few regrets, but the letter, tucked inside a worn, leather-bound book, changed everything. Michael ran a hand through his thinning hair, his gaze fixed on the familiar script. It was from his brother, David, the man he'd cut off after a childhood quarrel. The decades had passed in a blur of work and routine, yet the silence between them was a constant, unspoken burden.

The letter spoke of missed birthdays, milestones shared alone, and the crushing weight of unspoken grievances. Michael hadn't realized how profoundly his actions had impacted his sibling. A wave of heat washed over him, a burning sensation in his stomach. The bitterness of the past gave way to a fresh, bitter grief.

He stood and walked to the window, watching the rain streak the glass. He felt like he'd aged decades in the few minutes he'd spent reading. The letter was a mirror, reflecting his failures back at him. It was a long way to go, but a start.