Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Clara’s mouth. She sat at her kitchen table, staring at the letter she’d found tucked away in a box of old photos. Her hand was shaking as she read it, the words penned with a frantic energy she no longer possessed. It was a plea to her sister, an apology for a childhood slight.

Her head throbbed. She leaned forward, resting her forehead on the cool surface of the table. A dullness had settled over her, a blanket of quiet despondency that had been present all day. The bright morning was gone, leaving the afternoon empty.

She felt a strange disconnect, as if she were watching her life from a great distance. The sharp sting of regret, once so potent, had mellowed into a pervasive numbness. She placed the letter gently back in its envelope, the gesture feeling as heavy as the stone that seemed to have materialized in her heart.