Gemotions

The letter, neatly folded and addressed in elegant cursive, lay on the mantelpiece, having fallen from a box of old photographs. Amelia picked it up, her breath catching in her throat. It was to her husband, the man who had left her. The man she still missed.

She knew the words by heart. She read them silently, her lips moving without sound. Each phrase, each carefully chosen word, felt like a fresh wound. The room swam slightly before her eyes.

She clutched the paper so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The photographs on the mantelpiece seemed to mock her, reminding her of a life that was now forever lost. She sank down onto the sofa, the air suddenly thick and heavy.