Gemotions

The attic was a mausoleum of memories, and the letter was a particularly unwelcome ghost. Found tucked away in a dusty box of old Christmas decorations, the missive was addressed to her ex-husband. She had been too frightened to send it.

She sat on the floor, legs crossed, the unopened box beside her. The words, when she did read them, were a litany of blame. She had felt so very wronged at the time. The letter detailed his perceived shortcomings. The way he had abandoned her. The way he had broken her. The words were like a physical weight, pressing down on her chest.

She felt a need to lash out, to hurt him with the words she had once kept secret. She felt such an immense need to hurt him in exactly the same way she had been hurt. She considered calling him, but instead, she went to the kitchen and made a pot of very strong, very bitter coffee.