Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across David’s face as he read. The antique desk in his study was cluttered with papers, the remnants of his father’s estate. He picked up a letter he had written, but never sent, to his older brother, written when he was only fifteen years old. It was full of youthful bravado and a hidden undercurrent of jealousy.

He’d always felt like the shadow, the lesser one. He re-read the words, a knot tightening in his stomach. The words were sharp, critical, full of childish insecurities. He could almost hear the venom in his own voice, the bitterness that had gnawed at him for years.

David threw the letter onto the desk, the candle flame sputtering in response. He felt a sting behind his eyes, a familiar ache. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in on him.