Gemotions

“Well, isn’t this just rich,” Maya said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. The letter lay open on the kitchen counter, the stark white paper a jarring contrast to the colorful clutter of her life. She stared at it, her eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched tight.

She grabbed a knife from the counter, and stared at it, testing its weight in her hand. The cold metal was a comfort. She fought the urge to drive the knife into the countertop. Instead, she slowly replaced it. She began to rapidly scrub the counter.

She rubbed until her knuckles were red, and the scent of lemon cleanser filled the air. She wanted to erase the words, to scrub away the years of pain, the feeling that she had been wronged. But the words remained, a stark reminder of everything she had endured.