Gemotions

The photograph lay face down on the kitchen table. The sunlight slanted through the blinds, painting stripes across the linoleum. Anna couldn't bear to look at it, not yet. The letter, delivered this morning, held the key to the image. It had been years since she'd heard from her childhood friend, the one who’d said such cruel things at the funeral.

She had to read it, but the thought of re-experiencing the pain, the betrayal, the abandonment, paralyzed her. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sharp pang of agony that shot through her as she remembered the events that led to their estrangement. She took a deep breath and flipped over the picture.

It was a group photo from their tenth birthday. The smiles, the bright colors, the carefree joy. Everything felt suddenly distant, unreachable. She felt hollow, empty, as if the past had reached out and taken a piece of her. Her breath hitched, and she felt a tear trace a path down her cheek.