Gemotions

The letter crinkled in Amelia’s hand, the paper thin and cheap. Her mother's handwriting, usually so neat and precise, was frantic, scrawled across the page. Half-sister. The words swam before her eyes. Amelia gripped the arm of the floral armchair so hard her knuckles ached. This couldn’t be right. All the years, all the family dinners, all the secrets… and now this.

She stormed out to the back patio, the cool autumn air doing little to soothe the fire that had ignited in her chest. She yanked the garden hose from its hook and turned the nozzle, aiming the jet of water at a stubborn patch of weeds. The weeds were her targets now, not the weeds of the garden but the weeds of her family.

Later, she found herself staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The anger was a knot in her stomach. She saw her mother's face in her own, the eyes, the sharp jawline. How could she have kept something like this hidden? Amelia slammed the medicine cabinet shut, the click echoing in the sudden silence.