Gemotions

Michael paced the length of his childhood bedroom, the floorboards groaning under his weight. The letter, found tucked inside a forgotten book, was a punch to the gut. His father, a man of quiet conviction, expressing doubts about his career, his abilities… decades ago. He felt a chill despite the summer heat.

He ran a hand over his face, feeling the rough stubble. He hadn't shaved today, hadn't eaten. The feeling was like a physical weight, pressing him down, making it hard to breathe. He had always seen his father as a pillar, unwavering.

“What was I wrong about?” he muttered aloud, his voice raspy. He stared at the open window, the branches of the old oak tree swaying in the breeze. He felt a deep disorientation, a shift in his perception of everything.