Gemotions

The letter lay on the kitchen counter, its crisp white envelope stark against the worn wooden surface. Sarah hadn't touched it since the postman delivered it, weeks ago. She avoided even looking at it, the sight of it a fresh wound.

She busied herself with making dinner, chopping vegetables with excessive force, each slice a frustrated exclamation. Her usual lighthearted chatter with her family had vanished, replaced by an unsettling quietness.

Later, she watched them eat, the lively laughter and easy conversation grating on her nerves. When everyone was asleep she stole away and, in the dead of night, finally read the words she had been so desperate to avoid.