Gemotions

The letter felt like a cold hand on Alice's shoulder. She reread the words, each sentence a stab. The incident, so long ago, had left a deep scar. She'd worked diligently to hide the wound, to appear strong, unaffected.

She slammed the letter down, causing the tea in her delicate porcelain cup to slosh over the rim. She grabbed a napkin and furiously dabbed at the spill. Her knuckles were white, her breath came in short, sharp bursts.

“How dare he,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She glanced around her perfectly decorated living room, suddenly seeing it as a gilded cage. She got up abruptly and started pacing the room, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.