Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows as Clara clutched the yellowed letter. Her mother's neat script, so precise, so controlled, now mocked her. The words detailed a slow, agonizing unraveling within the confines of her teaching job. A job she had given up, only to be replaced by another teaching job later in life.

She had always believed her mother, who was a brilliant woman, had simply decided she was ready to pursue other interests. The lie felt heavy in her chest, a suffocating weight. She felt a burning sensation on her cheeks, as if she had been slapped.

She stared at her own reflection in the rain-streaked glass. The similarities between her and her mother's faces, once a source of comfort, now seemed like a cruel joke. She crumpled the letter in her fist and then carefully smoothed it out. She had never understood. Now she did, and the knowledge was a bitter pill to swallow.