Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest inside Amelia. She stared at the unopened letter lying on the kitchen table, the white envelope a stark contrast to the dark wood. Sunlight struggled to penetrate the grey, oppressive sky. Everything felt heavy, as if the air itself was thick with unspoken regrets. She hadn't bothered to water the wilting plants on the windowsill; their drooping leaves felt a familiar echo of her own posture. Sighing, she finally picked up the letter, the paper cool and crisp beneath her fingertips.

The cramped kitchen offered no solace, the chipped paint on the cupboards a further reminder of neglect. Amelia traced a finger over her name, written in a familiar, yet distant, cursive script. Her stomach churned. It had been ten years. Ten years since the falling out, since the silence, since the bitterness that had taken root and blossomed in her heart.

She ripped the letter open with a sudden, sharp motion, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room.