Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Amelia wrinkled her nose, pulling the cardboard box further from the wall. The musty scent clung to her like a shroud. Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten shawls and chipped porcelain dolls, was a small stack of letters. One, a crisp, typed document, was addressed to the "Board of Directors, Blackwood & Sons." It was her mother's. Her mother, who had always presented herself as the unflappable pillar of the family. The letter spoke of “irreconcilable differences” and a “need for a change.” Amelia slammed the box shut, the sound echoing in the confined space.

She retreated downstairs, the image of the typed words burned into her mind. Reaching for a glass, she filled it with water, watching the condensation bead on the sides. She swallowed the water in a gulp, then poured another. How could her mother, the woman who had always preached loyalty and stability, have harbored such a secret?

Later, sitting in her mother's perfectly preserved sunroom, Amelia stared out at the manicured lawn. The familiar routine of her life felt tainted.