Gemotions

The antique letter opener felt cold in Amelia’s sweaty palm. The ivory handle, usually a comfort, now felt like a warning. A single sheet of thick, cream-colored paper sat on her mahogany desk. It was postmarked from a town she hadn't thought about in twenty years. Her breath hitched. She’d been meticulously arranging her stationery, a task that generally soothed her, but today the task was a battlefield against the rising unease.

Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the letter. The crisp snap of the paper echoed in the otherwise silent house. The handwriting, elegant but unfamiliar, sent a shiver down her spine. The words swam before her eyes. It was from Sarah, the girl who had… well, the girl from her teenage years.

A coldness crept into her chest. Amelia felt a desperate urge to flee the room, to escape the words that were still forming in her brain. She pushed back from the desk, her chair scraping harshly against the floorboards. She stared at the letter, its presence a physical weight in the quiet room, a sudden, unwelcome guest.