Gemotions

The sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air as Martha reached for a sugar cookie. She had spent the morning cleaning out her late husband’s desk. This letter, tucked under a pile of bills, had her name written on it. The penmanship – her own – was shockingly familiar. The emotions, raw and unfiltered, were not.

Her cheeks flushed. The paper crackled as she unfolded it, her eyes darting across the familiar handwriting. She’d never sent it. Not a word had ever been uttered. A wave of nausea swept over her. She crumpled the letter in her fist, then laid it flat again, smoothing the creases. Her knuckles were white.

She went back to the cookies, though she no longer wanted one.