Gemotions

The crumpled letter lay on the counter, next to the bills. It was a note Liam had written to his estranged son, a note he’d never sent. The ink was faded, the paper brittle, but the words held a devastating clarity.

He picked it up, his fingers tracing the shaky handwriting. He felt a throbbing ache in his temples. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears. Each word was a blow, a reminder of the distance between them. The familiar feeling of helplessness descended.

He dropped the letter, the paper fluttering to the floor. The silence of the house pressed in on him. He felt hollow, as if a part of him had been ripped away. The guilt was a heavy chain around his ankles. He began to pace.