Gemotions

He found the letter at the bottom of a stack of old magazines, the paper brittle with age. *To Ethan, I was a coward.* The words, penned by a childhood friend, sent a shiver down his spine. He hadn't thought of Mark in years, not since the playground incident, the accusation, the silence that followed. He paced his small apartment, the worn rug soft beneath his feet.

His jaw clenched. He felt the familiar pressure building behind his eyes. He stopped pacing and ran a hand through his thinning hair. The shame, always lurking, now clawed at his throat. He crumpled the letter in his fist, then immediately smoothed it out, as if by doing so, he could erase the past.