Gemotions

The world felt muted to Clara. Colors seemed less vibrant, sounds less distinct. Even the bright sun seemed to cast a shadow over her apartment. She wandered through the rooms, picking up objects and putting them back down. A new envelope, postmarked from her childhood town, lay on the mantelpiece. The postmark was a name she hadn't heard in ages. She almost did not open it.

The letter inside was a confession, a long-delayed accounting of a childhood cruelty. The letter's words, a cascade of regret, forced her to confront the old wound. Her fingers traced the delicate script, her pulse thudding in her ears. She felt a tightening in her chest, a pressure she didn't realize she still carried. She felt a wave of nausea wash over her.