Gemotions

The morning sunlight felt unusually harsh against Amelia’s eyelids. She dragged herself out of bed, the covers clinging to her like a forgotten burden. A heavy silence filled the house, even the birdsong outside seemed muted. She shuffled into the kitchen, the linoleum cold beneath her bare feet, and mechanically began brewing coffee. The aroma, usually a comfort, offered no solace today.

She hadn't spoken more than a handful of words to her husband, George, in weeks, and she knew it was their unspoken tension that had her feeling so... leaden. She absentmindedly opened a drawer looking for the sugar, her fingers brushing against a stiff, unfamiliar envelope tucked behind a collection of take-out menus. It was addressed to George, marked "Confidential."

Her breath hitched. Curiosity, a dull ember smoldering within her, flickered to life. She felt herself, inexplicably, sinking a little further.