Gemotions

The letter lay on the mahogany desk, illuminated by the harsh glare of the overhead light. It was a note addressed to her high school principal, demanding an apology for a perceived injustice. Her fingers, usually steady, now shook uncontrollably. The ink, vibrant and bold, seemed to mock her.

She felt a hot flush creep up her neck, spreading across her face. The words, so certain and indignant, now felt petty and embarrassing. She had been so righteous, so sure of her own truth. Now, confronted with her younger self’s fervor, she was ashamed.

She pressed her palms against her temples, trying to stem the rising tide of discomfort. The past, she realized, was a relentless critic. She closed her eyes, willing the letter to disappear, to simply vanish from existence. She didn't have the strength to read it again.