Gemotions

The worn postcard slid out of the mailbox, a splash of color against the gray of the day. The handwriting was unmistakable. Her stomach clenched. The casual, almost breezy tone of the message felt jarring. She stood in the doorway, the wind whipping around her.

She folded the postcard and ran a finger over the smooth surface. She felt a strange tingling sensation, a mix of anticipation and dread. She moved back inside, the chill air followed her.

She finally sat at the kitchen table, the postcard in front of her. She took a deep breath and began to read. Each line felt like a small, unexpected blow. The apology was a starting point, she thought, and everything had been turned over.