Gemotions

The attic felt stifling, the dust motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight. Maria unfolded the brittle paper. It was a letter from her stepmother, a woman she'd barely known, written just before she died. A letter of resignation from a job Maria hadn't even known she'd held.

The words were cold, detached. Her stepmother spoke of feeling used, abused by a company and a man. Maria felt a sudden chill, despite the heat of the attic. She didn't know how to process this new information.

She pictured her stepmother's face, a face she'd only seen in photographs. She wasn't sure what to think, what to feel. She felt disoriented, like she was standing on shifting sand.