Gemotions

The antique clock on the mantel ticked loudly, each second echoing in Eleanor's suddenly silent house. A letter. A letter from her estranged daughter, Sarah. She hadn't heard from her in a decade, not since the catastrophic argument that had fractured their family.

Her hands shook as she picked it up. The paper felt brittle, thin, and the scent of lavender was overpowering. Her throat tightened. She read the first sentence, then reread it, her eyes blurring.

She sank into a chair, the words swimming before her. A wave of dizziness washed over her. She gripped the arms of the chair, trying to steady herself. The past, she realized, wasn't so easily buried.