Gemotions

The email popped up on his screen while he was in a meeting. A name he hadn't seen in decades. He excused himself from the conference call, claiming a sudden technical issue. He sat alone in his office, staring at the message. His fingers hovered over the mouse, as if afraid to click.

He’d built a good life, a clean life. He’d carefully cultivated an image of success and respectability. The past felt like a phantom limb, something that shouldn’t have the power to affect him anymore. He clicked the email open.

His chest tightened. He read the words, and his carefully constructed composure began to crumble. He found himself re-living the past.