Gemotions

The air conditioning hummed, a futile attempt to combat the summer heat that mirrored the internal climate. She'd found the letter while sorting through some old photo albums, a letter she'd written to a former boyfriend. "My dearest Mark, I hate you for..." it started. Reading it now, all those years later, only served to ignite the old embers of annoyance.

She rubbed her temples, trying to ward off a headache. The world felt too loud, too bright, too *much*. Every sound grated on her nerves. She flipped through the album quickly, then snapped it shut, wanting only to be left alone in the stifling quiet.