Gemotions

Liam held the letter, his knuckles white against the aged paper. The letter was written to his younger brother, who had died in an accident. Liam always felt that he had been too strict, had been too hard on him in their youth. He never sent the letter. He found it amongst old photographs, tucked away in a trunk in the basement.

The words held promises of support, apologies for perceived slights, a desperate plea for connection. He read it again, the pain a familiar throb in his chest. The accident had stolen not just his brother, but the opportunity for reconciliation, for absolution. The house felt too quiet, the absence a tangible weight. He closed his eyes, his breath hitching.