Gemotions

The antique brass letter opener practically vibrated in Amelia's hand. She’d found it in her grandmother’s attic trunk just last week, a perfect coincidence for the day the postman had delivered the thick, cream-colored envelope. Her pulse hammered against her ribs, a frantic little drum solo. She ripped it open, the paper catching and tearing slightly as if it too were swept away by her energy.

She unfolded the letter, her vision blurring at the edges. Thirty years. Thirty years since the falling out. Thirty years since she'd heard from Daniel. She started reading, her lips twitching into a smile that she couldn't quite contain. The words seemed to shimmer on the page, each sentence a tiny spark of possibility.

She bounced on the balls of her feet, a tiny, almost involuntary movement. After all this time, a chance to perhaps rebuild? A chance to finally hear the whole truth? Her fingers tightened around the letter, her knuckles white.