Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window of the cafe, mirroring the storm brewing inside him. He’d seen the first comment: “Wow, this kid was a mess!” He slammed his coffee cup down, the bitter liquid sloshing over the rim. It was his. The diary. He felt a deep ache in his chest, a heavy, dull thud.

The newspaper clipping lay discarded on the table, the blurry image of his teenage self staring back at him. He could almost smell the old paper and the scent of his mother's perfume, a cruel reminder of a time he’d rather forget.

He stood abruptly, knocking over his chair. He fumbled for his wallet, paid without looking at the barista, and fled into the downpour, oblivious to the icy water soaking his clothes.