Gemotions

The crisp white envelope felt brittle in Eleanor’s hand. Twenty years. Twenty years since Mark had humiliated her in front of the entire debate club, and now this. A cheap, perfumed scent clung to the paper, a sickeningly sweet odor that made her stomach clench. She almost threw it in the trash, but some perverse instinct, a need to prolong the feeling, kept her fingers wrapped around the thing.

She ripped the letter open with a violence that tore the thin paper, the edges jagged. The words swam before her eyes, a blur of apologetic prose that felt hollow and insincere. She crumpled the letter, her knuckles white, and squeezed it until it was a tiny ball. Then she tossed it in the fireplace, watching the flames consume the words, the smoke stinging her eyes.

A small smile touched her lips as she heard the fire crackle, and the heat began to emanate across her face.