Gemotions

"Bloody hell," muttered Sarah, her voice a low growl. She'd found the letter tucked between the pages of her grandmother's favourite cookbook. The crisp, clean handwriting was undeniably her mother's. The envelope, addressed to her father, was still sealed.

With shaking hands, Sarah sliced it open. The letter was a detailed account of her mother's unhappiness in their marriage, detailing years of suppressed discontent. Sarah felt the blood drain from her face. She hated that she'd never known. She hated that her mother had kept this from her.

She stalked through her house, her fingers curling and uncurling at her sides, searching for something, anything, to break. She found her old tennis racket, and without a second thought, she smashed it against the brick of the fireplace until the wood splintered.