Gemotions

The postman dropped the letter, its crisp edges a stark contrast to the clutter on Eleanor’s porch. It was from her daughter, Sophie. They hadn’t talked in three years. The letter was a detailed accounting of how Sophie’s life was, and a deep sense of responsibility for her mother’s unhappiness.

Eleanor sat on the porch swing, the wood creaking beneath her. She felt like a tree struck by lightning. She couldn't focus. She found herself wringing her hands, her knuckles white. She looked at the letter, and then the birds. Then the letter again. She wanted to run and hide.