Gemotions

The basement smelled of damp and forgotten things, but the letter was surprisingly well-preserved. Margaret’s brow furrowed as she read, her fingers tracing the neat cursive. Her grandmother, always the picture of stoic grace, had *resigned*. Not been pushed out, as she’d always claimed. Margaret felt a heat rise in her cheeks. The woman had built her entire identity on being wronged. She crumpled the letter, then threw it across the room. The paper hit the cold stone wall, and slid to the floor. Margaret kicked it again for good measure.