Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the storage unit seemed to amplify the silence. Maria clutched the letter, her knuckles white. The air felt thick, heavy, as if the very air was against her. The smell of mildew and forgotten things clung to her clothes as the words replayed in her head. She knew the handwriting; it was her own. The date, a painful reminder, was scrawled at the top.

*“If I tell him the truth, I’ll lose everything,”* she read aloud, her voice barely a whisper. The words felt like a physical blow. The letter went on, detailing her internal struggles, the secrets she’d kept, the lies she’d told. She had never been so close to confessing her deepest thoughts.

She dropped the letter and pressed her palms to her temples, a deep ache in her skull.