Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. Martha felt a familiar pressure in her temples. She was supposed to be preparing dinner, but her mother had called asking her to sort through some old family photos. She picked up an old photo album and it fell open. A letter slid out.

It was addressed to her grandmother, and in her own adolescent scrawl. She unfolded the paper, its edges worn thin. "Dear Grandma, I am so..." The words seemed to jump off the page, each one a jab. Her fingers tightened on the paper. She hated this.

The letter fluttered to the floor. The entire exercise was making her… twitchy. She turned and walked toward the kitchen, already reaching for the wine.