Gemotions

Michael stared at the letter, its crisp edges a stark contrast to the rough feel of the old wooden desk. He hadn't expected to find this. He'd been looking for a stapler. The paper was folded carefully, a delicate origami in the harsh afternoon light. Addressed to his estranged brother, the handwriting was his own, though the words felt like they belonged to a stranger.

He picked it up gingerly, like a fragile bird. The words contained a confession of jealousy, of resentment, of a love warped by distance. He hadn't realized he'd ever felt this way, certainly not with such clarity. His jaw slackened. The ink had faded, but the emotions were searing. He sank into his chair, the weight of the past pressing down on him.