Gemotions

The photograph was tucked inside a worn, leather-bound journal. He found it while clearing out his parents' attic, a place he hadn't visited in decades. The letter was a postscript, an attached note. The picture of him and his ex-girlfriend was a blow to the gut. Michael felt a sudden, inexplicable heat in his chest.

He remembered the arguments, the tears, the slamming of doors. He recalled the pain, and the guilt. He felt his face flush. He was no longer the man he used to be, he told himself, but the past remained. The journal was open on the floor, and he couldn’t look at it.

He pushed the photo away, his hand knocking over a stack of old books. He paced the dusty attic, feeling as though the air had been sucked out of the room. He felt strangely hollow.