Gemotions

The envelope, unopened, sat on the mahogany desk, a pristine white rectangle against the polished wood. Amelia kept glancing at it, a knot of unease tightening in her chest. It had arrived this morning, addressed in a familiar, loopy script. The memories, sharp and unpleasant, flooded back: the stolen friendships, the whispered lies. She pushed her chair back, the scrape against the floor grating on her nerves. The urge to toss it in the trash was overwhelming, but a morbid curiosity held her rooted to the spot.