Gemotions

The envelope, tucked beneath the mail, was a stark white. Sarah, normally a whirlwind of activity, just picked it up, then let it fall onto the kitchen counter. A password recovery email. For her son, Michael.

It sat there, a white square against the stainless steel, untouched. She walked over to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. The grey light seemed to absorb all the color from the day. She felt a profound weariness, an unwillingness to engage.

She ran her hand along the countertop, tracing its cold edge. This needed attention. But now was not the time. She turned back to the window, the droplets blurring the world outside. Best leave it.