Gemotions

The letter crinkled in Amelia’s hand, a brittle, papery scream. She crumpled it again, tighter this time, until it was a useless ball. Her breath hitched, shallow and rapid. Outside, the world continued its indifferent whir: a lawnmower, a distant dog barking, the mail truck lumbering down the street. She slammed her fist on the kitchen counter, the ceramic mug beside it rattling precariously. It was a stupid, cheap mug with a picture of a cat on it, but she didn’t care. She stalked to the window, the paper ball clutched tight in her hand. Her father. Of all the people. Betrayal clawed at her insides, a hot, twisting knot. She wanted to scream.