Gemotions

I found it tucked inside a box of old photographs. It was a letter addressed to my brother. The arguments inside were the same ones we still argued about. I sat on the floor, the paper trembling in my hands. It was full of anger, frustration, and the unspoken certainty that I was right.

A knot formed in my stomach as I reread the words, as familiar as my own reflection. I remembered the feeling: the burning in my chest, the way my jaw ached with the effort of not giving in. I ripped the letter in half. Then I ripped each half again. I tossed the pieces onto the floor.