Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the afternoon sunbeams. Amelia, pulling herself up from her knees, felt a fizz in her chest, a light, bubbly feeling. She practically bounced down the creaking wooden stairs, clutching the yellowed envelope. Her fingers fairly itched to tear it open. It had been decades since she'd penned this.

“Dinner’s on!” she called, her voice bright and too loud, nearly tripping over the cat as she went. She tossed the letter onto the kitchen counter, immediately beginning to rummage through the fridge, humming a forgotten tune. Tonight, she was making her famous lasagna, extra garlic, extra cheese.

She grinned, remembering the sting of tears she had felt when she wrote the letter. Now, it was like a long-dormant volcano had suddenly decided to rumble awake.