Gemotions

It arrived in the middle of a Tuesday, a thick envelope addressed to "Mrs. Abigail Hayes." The address was correct, but I wasn't Mrs. Hayes. I'd never been anyone's wife. I took a deep breath and opened it.

Inside, a collection of letters tied together with a faded ribbon. I unfolded the topmost one, the handwriting a graceful script. It was a love letter. It spoke of stolen kisses, shared dreams, and a love that seemed to have burned bright. I felt a twinge, a dull throb.

Each letter was a piece of a story I wasn't a part of. The ink on the paper felt cool beneath my fingertips. I ran my hand over the bundle, and a tight feeling seized my throat. I wondered what had happened to Abigail, and the person who had written these words, and what lives they’d lived.