Gemotions

Rain lashed against the grimy window of the diner, mirroring the storm inside Amelia. She hadn't eaten in two days. The rejection letters piled up on her kitchen table, each one a fresh stab of disappointment. Then, amidst the junk mail, a crisp envelope, addressed in a familiar, calligraphic hand. It was from him. He had written.

Her fingers fumbled with the seal, her breath catching in her throat. The greasy smell of the diner, the clatter of cutlery, faded away as she focused on the words. He was sorry. Years. She felt a wave of nausea, a dizzying emptiness that threatened to swallow her whole. The warmth of the coffee cup in her hand suddenly felt insignificant.