Gemotions

The scent of lavender wafted from the old stationery drawer as Amelia reached inside. She was looking for a pen, but instead, her fingers brushed against a folded letter. Her breath hitched. It was a letter, years old, written to her mother, who was no longer with her. It was filled with complaints, petty grievances that seemed utterly insignificant now.

She carefully unfolded the brittle paper. Regret stung like a slap. A hollowness settled in her chest, a void that yawned with the awareness of what she could never undo. The world around her seemed to fade, replaced by the crushing weight of her own past, a past she could never change.