Gemotions

The letter, addressed in unfamiliar handwriting, sat on the kitchen counter like a taunt. Amelia had been hoping against hope for years that she would hear from him. That he would remember. The letter, with its impersonal tone and detached observations, was not what she'd expected.

She crumpled the paper in her hands, her fingers flexing, the edges digging into her palms. The words swam before her eyes, blurring into an unintelligible mess. She felt a tremor in her hands.

She wanted to tear the letter into shreds, to obliterate the paper that held such a casual dismissal of their shared past. Instead, she threw it in the trash with a force that sent the bin rattling against the wall. She wanted to smash something.