Gemotions

He’d always considered himself a man of stone, impervious to the whims of sentiment. But as Thomas read the letter, the paper trembling slightly in his grasp, a strange prickling sensation crawled across his skin. He hadn't expected to feel anything. It had been a lifetime ago, a youthful indiscretion. Now, years later, the apology arrived like a jolt of pure energy.

His throat tightened. He pushed back from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. He needed air. He walked quickly to the kitchen, seeking a glass of water, his vision unfocused. The sunlight was too bright, the sounds of the neighborhood too loud. The water felt cold, but the chill did nothing to quell the internal upheaval.

He crumpled the letter, then smoothed it again. He could not throw it away, not yet. He felt a need to examine the paper. The texture, the scent, the writing. He felt… like he was about to explode.