Gemotions

The paper crackled in Eleanor’s grip, a sound that amplified the tremor running through her hands. Years. Years it had taken him to say this. The cheap, flimsy paper felt like a slap in the face. She crumpled it, then smoothed it out, repeating the action until the edges were frayed.

Her jaw clenched. She felt the muscles in her neck tighten, pulling her head down toward her chest. It was the same posture she’d adopted as a child, when trying to disappear from the world. Now, as a grown woman, this letter was forcing her back into that feeling, that vulnerability.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, the word a raw rasp. She kicked at a discarded shoe near her desk, sending it skittering across the hardwood floor. Then, she picked up the phone, stabbed at the mute button, and slammed it down with a force that made the plastic tremble.