Gemotions

The pristine envelope, with its simple, elegant script, lay on the polished wood of her desk. She resisted the urge to rip it to shreds, but her hands were trembling, unable to quite stay steady. The thought of the man's face, the image of what he had done, pulsed through her mind.

She rose from her chair, her movements stiff. She began to pace her office, back and forth, the only sound the rhythmic creak of the floorboards beneath her weight. The apology, offered so long after, was an insult.

Each step was deliberate, measured, as if she were trying to contain the tempest brewing inside her. She wanted to obliterate the source of her pain.