Gemotions

The clatter of the postman's bag woke Maya from her morning routine. She'd been about to pour her coffee, a ritual she protected. As she opened the letterbox, she saw the offending letter. It was from her old dance teacher, Mrs. Periwinkle. The woman had been cruel during her formative years. *After all these years?* She scoffed, her hand still reaching for the coffee maker. She opened the letter, reading it with an expression of thinly veiled contempt. Each word was a tiny jab, reopening old wounds. She slammed the envelope onto the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee, then left the letter for the next time she felt like burning something.