Gemotions

The envelope, sealed with a heart-shaped sticker, practically vibrated in Maya's hand. The address was her grandmother's, the return address her own, written in a flourish she now considered childish. She scanned the lines, a cold knot forming in her stomach. It was a plea for understanding, a call for help she'd desperately needed then, and had never received.

The attic air felt oppressive, the sunlight filtering through the grimy window a mocking spotlight. She imagined the stern set of her grandmother’s jaw, the pursed lips, the silent judgment. They always thought they knew best.

Maya tossed the letter aside. She didn't want to think about it anymore. She spun on her heel and stomped out. She was going to see her friends.