Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam. Clara coughed, waving a hand in front of her face as she unearthed a box labeled "Memories: Pre-Marriage." Inside, nestled amongst dried flower petals and faded photographs, lay a letter. Her handwriting, spidery and youthful, stared back at her. She recognized the date – a week before her wedding. She ripped it open, a tremor starting in her jaw.

She began to read. The words, addressed to her fiancé, sliced through her. He was the most handsome man she'd ever seen, and she thought he loved her just as deeply as she loved him. She'd been a fool. The youthful yearning, the desperate pleas for reassurance, the unspoken doubts…all laid bare. The paper crinkled in her fist as she finished. She marched to the window, the sun now feeling like a mocking spotlight.

She tossed the letter into the wastebasket. It was an insult to her present self, a blatant reminder of the insecurities she had buried. She thought her husband was a saint, but this letter proved he had been an equal accomplice in her naivete. She felt a heat rising in her chest, a tightness she couldn't quite explain.