Gemotions

Margaret smoothed the brittle paper, the ink faded to a gentle brown. It was addressed to her mother, a woman long gone. A wave of unease washed over her, a chill despite the warmth of the sun streaming through the attic window. She remembered the turmoil of that year, the unspoken words that hung between them. She couldn't remember why she hadn't sent it.

She scanned the spidery handwriting, her brow furrowing. The letter spoke of dreams and fears, of a longing for connection, of a deep well of loneliness. A sudden tightness constricted her chest. Why had she bottled all this up? Why not share it?

With trembling fingers, she folded the letter back into its creases. The attic air felt heavy, thick with the weight of unspoken history. She sat heavily on the dusty trunk, the silence of the room amplifying the questions swirling in her mind, questions she wasn't sure she wanted answers to.