Gemotions

The crisp white envelope lay on the mahogany table, stark against the afternoon light. Eleanor picked it up, her fingers tracing the embossed initials on the back – initials she hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. A tremor, a faint flutter in her chest, preceded the slow tear of the seal. Her breath hitched as she unfolded the letter, the paper crackling like dry leaves underfoot.

He apologized. For everything. For the stolen summer, the whispered promises, the abrupt departure. The words swam before her eyes, blurring at the edges. Her pulse quickened. She found herself subconsciously smoothing the material of her dress, her palms now damp against the fabric.

She reread the last paragraph three times, a flush creeping up her neck. A sudden, potent memory of sun-drenched skin and a too-short kiss slammed into her. A heat, a slow burn, ignited in the pit of her stomach. She needed a cold shower, and a long one.