Gemotions

"More tea, dear?" Margaret's neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, asked, her voice a forced brightness. Margaret shook her head, focusing on the chipped teacup.

Later, in her quiet kitchen, she went over to a drawer and pulled out a faded box. Inside was a letter from her late husband, Thomas. She'd found it packed away with his old things. He’d written it to her, just before their wedding. It had never been mailed.

The words were full of love and anticipation, a love she still felt, but now tasted like ash. Her fingers traced the elegant script, each word a painful reminder of everything she'd lost, all the empty spaces that remained.

She closed the box, the click of the latch a sharp punctuation mark in the silent room. She thought of calling her daughter, but decided against it, the thought of small talk exhausting.