Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, but the scene was anything but idyllic for Maya. She held her grandmother’s draft letter. The words…

“...marginalized…ignored…" Her throat felt tight. She dropped the letter on the table, the sound of the paper hitting the wood oddly loud in the quiet room. Her grandmother, the woman who had always seemed to float through life with such grace and ease, had carried this weight.

Maya scrubbed a hand over her face, her fingers digging into the skin. She hated the feeling of being deceived. She hated the injustice. She kicked at the leg of a nearby chair, the wood splintering under the impact.