Gemotions

The old trunk, hidden in the back of the linen closet, yielded its secrets reluctantly. Martha, crouched on the floor, felt the familiar prickle of annoyance. The letter, penned long ago, was addressed to her childhood best friend. It was about a silly misunderstanding, a childhood quarrel.

She reread the accusatory words, the judgmental tone. It was as if another person had written them. Her hands shook, a tremor that ran from her shoulders down to her fingertips.

She let out a frustrated sigh, and folded the letter, placing it back in the trunk. The hurt was long gone, but the echo of the past still resonated.