Gemotions

He slammed the old trunk shut, the metal latch protesting with a screech. The letter, clutched in his sweaty palm, burned with the heat of his anger. Twenty years ago, he had poured his heart onto this paper, begging for understanding from his father. Begging for an acknowledgement he never received.

Now, rereading those youthful pleas made him feel… a curious satisfaction. He walked to the fireplace, the shadows in the room dancing with the flickering flames. He could almost feel the heat radiating on his face, mirroring the internal furnace that was building. He ripped the letter into tiny pieces, relishing the sound of the paper tearing. Each shard represented a knot of suppressed rage that he was finally untying.