Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Amelia. The crisp, official envelope sat on her kitchen table, a stark white intrusion amidst the usual clutter of bills and junk mail. She’d recognized the handwriting immediately: David. After all these years. Her stomach clenched. It was a physical reaction, a knot tightening in her gut. She remembered the day he'd left, the whispered accusations, the slamming door. She hadn't seen him since.

Slowly, carefully, she picked up the letter. The paper was stiff, the ink dark and precise. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded it, the silence in the room amplifying the rustle of the paper. She didn't want to read it. She almost threw it in the bin.

"Well?" Her voice was a cracked whisper as she finally started to read. She sat down, her legs giving way. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the words, but she kept reading. Each sentence was a fresh stab.