Gemotions

The apology, printed in neat, impersonal font, felt like a deliberate act of taunting. It sat on her nightstand, a mocking reminder. Every time she looked at it, a fire ignited within her, spreading through her veins.

She wanted to burn it. To shred it. To erase the words, the memory, the man who had caused so much pain. Her fingers twitched, itching to act. She picked up a nearby pen and stabbed at the paper, leaving angry ink marks that scarred the text.

Sleep was impossible. The air in her bedroom felt thick, oppressive. She felt trapped, held hostage by a past she couldn't escape. The letter was a phantom limb, always there, always aching.