Gemotions

The old house felt colder than usual, the draft whistling through the cracks around the windows. Eleanor shivered, though the temperature was moderate. She was in the den, sifting through a box of old photographs and letters. Amongst the ephemera, she found a letter she'd written to her sister, a searing indictment of her choices and a condemnation of her lifestyle. It was venomous.

The language was harsh, the accusations pointed. Reading it, she felt a familiar tightening in her chest, a familiar guilt. She recognized the anger, but didn’t understand its source. She’d been so sure of her own righteousness then.

She crumpled the letter, the paper crackling in her hands. The noise did not break the silence. She let it sit there. The shadows in the room deepened.