Gemotions

The girl, Stella, stared at the letter, its edges yellowed with age, and a bitter taste filled her mouth. The woman who had written it, a grandmotherly figure to her, had confided some petty secrets. The person on the receiving end was another family member. Stella's fingers tightened around the worn paper, the words cutting into her like shards of glass.

Stella felt a tremor run through her. Every single one of her nerves seemed to be stretched to the breaking point. The bookstore, filled with the aroma of old paper and leather, suddenly felt oppressive. It was so hard to breathe.

She quickly left the bookstore, shoving the letter deep into her bag. She needed to be alone, to process this betrayal of trust, this blatant disregard for the quiet dignity she always assumed she knew.