Gemotions

The old house felt stuffy, the air thick with the scent of forgotten summers and mothballs. Emily felt a tightness in her chest as she sifted through the boxes in her late grandmother’s room. Her grandfather had asked her to do this, said it was a good distraction. She certainly didn't feel distracted. She was, in fact, experiencing a simmering displeasure at the whole situation.

She picked up a small, sealed envelope. Her name, written in familiar loops, was the only thing on it. She slit it open. Inside was a letter, penned in her own teenage script. She began reading, a wave of heat washing over her.

“Dear Diary, I wish people would just…” She stopped, her eyes narrowing. She could feel the familiar clench in her gut, that feeling of being misunderstood, of wanting to scream and stomp her feet. It was all so…*predictable*. The letter dropped from her numb fingers, landing with a soft thud on the floor. She needed a walk.