Gemotions

“Come on, come on,” she muttered, pacing in front of her mailbox. Each passing car seemed to carry a mocking echo of her own anticipation. When she finally opened the mailbox, the single letter seemed to glow with a deceptive promise. She ripped it open, her fingers moving fast. The words were a mockery. After so long, after all that had happened, this was it?

She wanted to be finished with it; she was late for dinner. She crumpled the letter in her hand, squeezing it until it was a tight ball. She dropped it on the ground.