Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down Amelia's temple, tracing a slow path over her eyebrow. She reread the shaky handwriting, her mother's name scrawled across the top of the crisp, yellowed paper. It was a resignation letter, dated from 1988, from a job Amelia had always believed her mother had cherished. The words, so unlike the confident woman she knew, made her stomach clench.

She sank further into the dusty attic armchair, the springs protesting her weight. The letter’s abrupt sentences, punctuated with hesitant apologies, seemed to scream a secret she’d never known. Her cheeks flushed; she felt a hot pressure building behind her eyes. Why had her mother pretended for all these years?

Amelia hastily folded the letter, stuffing it back into the antique cedar chest. She needed air. She fumbled her way back downstairs, the weight of the past pressing down on her with each step.