Gemotions

The overhead light in the storage unit hummed, a dissonant soundtrack to Sarah's fury. She found the letter tucked away in a dusty shoebox. Written to her ex-husband, it was a catalog of his failings, his shortcomings, his offenses. It was a vicious portrait of her disillusionment.

She slammed the box shut. Her hands trembled. The old wounds, long scabbed over, were suddenly raw. Every grievance she'd ever held against him flashed through her mind, each one a fresh assault.

She paced between the boxes, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Every item in the unit was a reminder of what she had lost. She kicked at a stack of old magazines, sending them scattering across the floor.