Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window, mirroring the storm brewing inside Eleanor. She stumbled over a forgotten trunk, dust motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight. Inside, nestled among moth-eaten shawls and yellowed photographs, she found it: a letter, carefully penned in her younger, more optimistic hand. It was addressed to her estranged sister, a plea for forgiveness she'd never dared to send. Her throat constricted as she read the words, each sentence a stab of regret. The words she’d hoped would mend, now just felt like a fresh cut to a wound that hadn't healed.

She sank to the dusty floor, the weight of years pressing down on her. The silence of the attic amplified the ache in her chest. She reached out, tracing the elegant script, each word a ghost of a conversation that never happened. The physical sensation of the paper in her hand didn’t comfort her, just reminded her of what was lost. Her lip trembled as a single tear escaped and followed the curve of the “s” in “sister.”