Gemotions

"This isn't real, this isn't real," Amelia whispered, pacing back and forth in her childhood bedroom. The letter lay on her bed, a testament to her grandmother’s quiet despair. The language was flowery, full of polite dismissals of a career she had dedicated her life to, but the subtext was devastating.

Amelia had never known her grandmother to express any sadness, any regret. She had always been the rock, the constant, the embodiment of grace. But this letter, this confession of loneliness and a sense of being overlooked, chipped away at the foundation of her perception. A sense of the world turning upside down took her breath away.

She began to pace faster, her chest tightening. She couldn’t look at it. The letter felt radioactive. She picked it up, then let it fall again. She couldn’t keep it; she couldn’t destroy it. She felt completely frozen.