Gemotions

The letter arrived during a family dinner. Amelia had been laughing, recounting a silly story about her grandchild. Then she saw the handwriting. Her laughter died in her throat. The colour drained from her face. She excused herself, the cheerful chatter of the other family members a distant hum in her ears.

She retreated to her bedroom, the heavy door closing behind her with a definitive thud. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling as she unfolded the letter. Each word was a needle, pricking at the carefully constructed facade she had spent years building. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She felt a profound sense of shame, of exposure.