Gemotions

The envelope, cream-colored and innocuous, sat on the kitchen counter like a ticking bomb. Maria had put off opening it for days, the knowledge of its contents a constant shadow. Now, finally, she ripped it open. The words blurred before her eyes, the simple sentences a devastating puzzle.

She dropped to the kitchen chair, the sudden movement knocking the air from her lungs. Her fingers trembled as she reached for her water glass, spilling half of it. The cold water did nothing to ease the heat blooming in her chest.

"No," she breathed, the word a shattered whisper. Her gaze darted around the familiar room, the comforting normalcy of it suddenly alien. Everything felt fragile, on the verge of shattering.