Gemotions

The kitchen timer ticked with agonizing slowness. Sarah’s fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater as she waited for the kettle to boil. She’d unearthed the letter in the bottom of a box while cleaning out the spare room. It was written in her mother’s elegant script, addressed to her grandmother.

She knew she shouldn't read it. It felt intrusive, like trespassing on a private grief. Yet, she found herself tracing the looping letters of her mother’s name on the envelope, her pulse ratcheting.

She poured the boiling water into a mug, her hand shaking so badly she spilled a little. This was going to be harder than she thought.