Gemotions

The crisp white envelope felt like any other piece of mail. Amelia tossed it onto the kitchen counter, next to a pile of unpaid bills and takeout menus. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. She poured herself a cup of coffee, the familiar ritual offering no particular comfort or dread. Later, when the dishes were done and the silence of the apartment had settled, she picked up the letter. The handwriting was neat, unfamiliar. A sigh escaped her lips as she tore it open.

The words – apologies for a petty theft from a childhood friend – swam before her eyes. It was a lifetime ago. A time of scraped knees and shared secrets. The friend’s name was mentioned. Amelia vaguely remembered her. A flicker of something, like a faded photograph, briefly crossed her mind. She turned the letter over, looked at the smooth, blank back, and then placed it, unread, beneath a coaster on the coffee table.