Gemotions

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Fiona muttered, her voice tight, the envelope clutched in her hand. The postmark was from his town. She had almost forgotten his existence, but the letter, its presence, brought it all rushing back.

She retreated to her sunroom, the sudden warmth a stark contrast to the chill that had settled over her. The words blurred before her eyes, blurring the memory of the past. The apologies felt like a calculated insult. She felt a burning sensation on her face.

She took a hammer from the workshop, and went to the garden. There, with one swift blow, she smashed the clay pot that contained a rose he had gifted her long ago.