Gemotions

He slumped onto the park bench, the cold seeping through his thin trousers. Thomas stared at the crumpled paper clutched in his hand. It was a letter addressed to his father, never mailed. His father, a man he now understood with a startling clarity. The words detailed his struggles in high school. The pressure, the self-doubt, the crushing weight of expectation.

He closed his eyes, remembering the arguments, the closed doors, the unspoken resentments that had defined their relationship. His shoulders slumped, he felt every bone in his body was heavy. He just wanted to shut the world out. The letter ended with a plea for understanding, a fragile hope that resonated with a pain he knew all too well. Today, he realised, he was the father, and the cycle felt inescapable.