Gemotions

The crisp white envelope felt strangely heavy in her hand. It had arrived just this morning, slipped between the bars of her wrought-iron gate. The handwriting was unfamiliar, looping and elegant, a stark contrast to the utilitarian block letters she usually saw. Her gaze darted around, as if expecting someone to be watching, to laugh at the sudden and inexplicable appearance of the missive.

She retreated inside, the silence of her sun-drenched kitchen amplifying the sudden thump of her own heartbeat. Setting the envelope on the counter, she paced, hands clasped behind her back. Thirty years. Thirty years since *that* night. Could it possibly be? She snatched it up, her fingers fumbling with the seal.

The words swam before her eyes. An apology. A sincere, heartfelt apology for something she had long since buried, convinced it was best forgotten. A wave of heat washed over her, followed by a chill that settled deep in her bones. She sank into a chair, the letter trembling in her grasp.