Gemotions

The humidity hung heavy in the air, mirroring the oppressive mood within Eleanor. She was rummaging through a forgotten chest in the attic, looking for old holiday decorations. She discovered a letter, addressed to a former friend, a letter filled with apologies.

A strange kind of stillness settled over her. Each movement became an exercise in slow deliberation. She traced the lines of the words with a trembling finger, each syllable a reminder of past mistakes. The attic felt close, the dust motes dancing in the faint light.

She felt the sting of forgotten hurts. She closed her eyes. It seemed as though she would be stuck in the past forever. She put the letter back in the chest, the act a final acceptance of her present.