Gemotions

The doorbell's chime, sharp and intrusive, made her jump. It had been years since she'd heard that sound, a sound she once associated with joy. Now, the sound felt like a cruel joke. She peeked through the peephole, her heart slamming against her ribs. No one.

The envelope lay on the welcome mat, a stark white rectangle against the worn wood. She slowly opened the door, a wave of cold washing over her. She picked it up, her fingers numb, and brought the letter inside, the door locked now. She didn’t want to read it. She didn't. She paced the kitchen, unable to stand still, a coiled spring ready to snap.