Gemotions

The aroma of lavender potpourri did little to mask the dust motes dancing in the shafts of light. Sarah reread the letter, her lips pressed into a thin line. It was from her aunt, a woman who’d always held herself up as a paragon of strength, a pioneer who'd bravely fought the good fight. "I regret to inform you..." The formal tone, the careful phrasing. The utter lack of any hint of the stories of hardship she told. Sarah felt a creeping unease, a sense of something important shifting within her. She folded the letter precisely in thirds and placed it in an envelope, ready to be sent.