Gemotions

He held the letter, its edges softened by age, a relic of a time when his ideals were still intact. He read the words of youthful idealism, of grand ambitions. They were addressed to his former mentor, a man who had since betrayed his trust, and ultimately, ruined his career.

He could almost feel the youthful naiveté that he once embodied. Now, he felt the cool, hard grip of cynicism. The letter felt heavy in his hand. He walked to the window, the city lights twinkling below, and considered the life he’d lost. He thought about a certain file on his desk. He smiled. He wasn’t so sure those bright ideals had been entirely wasted, after all.