Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and heavy, dust motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight. Amelia coughed, waving a hand in front of her face. She'd been sorting through boxes of her late mother's belongings, a task she'd put off for years. Then, tucked inside a brittle, yellowed envelope, she found it. Her own handwriting, youthful and bold, stared back at her. The date was twenty-five years ago.

She sank onto a nearby trunk, the letter trembling in her grasp. Why hadn't she sent this? The words were addressed to her own estranged father. A flood of conflicting memories, the hurt, the anger, the yearning, washed over her. She ran a hand through her hair, a knot forming in her stomach. What had stopped her?