Gemotions

The weight of the afternoon sun pressed on her. Amelia sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creaks a counterpoint to the buzzing of the cicadas. She had been attempting to clear out her mother's belongings after a long absence.

Inside a leather-bound journal, she found a letter, perfectly preserved. The ink had barely faded. It was addressed to her brother, who had died in childhood. A wave of exhaustion washed over her.

She barely registered the world around her, lost in the ghost of her mother's words. The grief, always present, had resurfaced with a familiar ache. The silence of the house pressed in on her, suffocating.