Gemotions

The air in the spare bedroom was thick with the scent of mothballs and old paper. Clara unfolded the letter, its edges brittle and worn. The childish handwriting, once so familiar, now seemed alien and…embarrassing. She had tried so hard to be perfect.

She held it at arm's length, her lips pursed. The words, penned with such earnestness, now appeared naive, even slightly absurd. The indignation, the hurt, the sense of betrayal – it all felt so…theatrical.

Clara glanced at the envelope again, the name of her intended recipient. She wasn’t sure who would want to hear from this person anymore. Her gaze shifted to the window, the sunlight glinting off the dust motes. She crumpled the letter, the paper crackling in her hand.