Gemotions

The afternoon light caught the dust motes dancing in the air as Mark unfolded the letter. It was written to his best friend, a friend he’d lost touch with after a foolish argument years ago. The letter detailed the frustration of being misunderstood, a sentiment that still lingered. He had been afraid of confrontation.

He ran a hand over his face, feeling the fatigue of unspoken words etched into his skin. The silence in the house was almost deafening, filled only with the faint sound of his own shallow breaths. The letter's plea for reconciliation, never answered, felt like a gaping wound.