Gemotions

The afternoon light filtered through the blinds, casting stripes across the living room floor. The letter, finally, had been opened by Olivia, and now sat on the table. The words, penned by her ex-husband, detailed his actions, his motivations, his sorrow. Her mind, however, was elsewhere.

The television flickered, a silent companion. The remote lay close, within easy reach. The thought of engaging with the past, of reliving the pain, felt utterly draining. She stretched out on the sofa, the soft cushions offering a tempting refuge.

She looked at the letter again. She was starting to get hungry. The effort of cooking felt just as immense as reading the letter. She sighed. She closed her eyes. The day was already half over, and she hadn’t done anything.