Gemotions

The musty smell of the old cedar chest filled Anya’s nostrils as she fished out the letter. Her grandmother's neat, elegant handwriting was a familiar comfort, but the words… the words were a shock. It was a draft resignation letter, a yearning to be free of the pressures of her marriage, her social circles, her life. Anya’s stomach lurched.

She was drowning in expectations. The endless social engagements, the constant demands of her family, the pressure to appear perfect – it all felt like a suffocating mask. She let out a small, choked sob. She closed her eyes, wishing, just wishing, that it would all disappear. She felt very, very small.