Gemotions

The envelope, sealed with a childish drawing of a heart, crinkled in Amelia's hands. Inside, a letter to her grandmother, a woman whose inheritance had always been a source of both love and quiet resentment. The letter itself was a study in self-absorption, a cascade of requests for gifts, for favors, for more, more, more.

She sat on the floor, the faded paper spread before her. The words were a window into a part of herself she preferred to keep locked away. A low flush heated her cheeks. She thought about the holidays, the birthdays. The moments when her eye would wander toward the larger gifts, the more expensive baubles.

The letter's demands, so blatant then, still resonated. She ran her hand over her own engagement ring, a diamond that would make her grandmother proud. The jewelry felt like a statement of her own success, the success she felt she was due. She felt a vague sense of inadequacy, a need to catch up, to surpass, to acquire.