Gemotions

Eliza folded the letter, the paper crackling under her fingers. It was the information she needed. Her father had another daughter. A daughter he'd never told her about. Eliza felt a tightness in her chest, a physical resistance to the news.

She went to the garden and started to ruthlessly pull weeds from the flowerbeds. Each tug, each yank, was a release of her mounting tension. The soil clung to her hands, a grounding sensation. The roses were thriving, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the shadows in her mind.

She would work in the garden until exhaustion claimed her. And then, she would think about it. Maybe.