Gemotions

The old Victorian house creaked and groaned around Amelia. She sat in the library, illuminated by the dim glow of a lamp. She was surrounded by the ghosts of her past. She had opened a chest filled with correspondence.

There was a letter, penned in her own hand, intended for her mother, a woman who had passed away years ago. The letter had never made it to its destination.

The words, a plea for understanding, felt raw and exposed. She realized her mother's absence had left a wound that had never truly healed. She closed her eyes, and let the quiet take over, her chest constricted.