Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air, mirroring the chaotic dance going on inside her. Amelia clutched the letter, her knuckles bone-white. It was a note she’d written to her sister, fifteen years prior, detailing the injustices and slights she felt she was subjected to. The words were a torrent of hurt, a raw, exposed wound.

She felt a tremor run through her, and she had to grip the counter to steady herself. Her breath hitched in her throat as she relived each offense, each perceived betrayal. She looked around the kitchen, her eyes darting like a trapped bird. The mundane domesticity of the room felt like a cruel joke. "She did this to me," Amelia muttered.