Gemotions

The kitchen, usually a whirlwind of morning chaos, was unusually calm. Sarah hummed as she sipped her coffee, the remnants of a forgotten email sitting on the countertop. It was addressed to her ex-husband, a carefully constructed argument for why their marriage deserved a second chance. She had drafted it during a particularly dark period, a period she would soon forget.

The sun streamed in, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. She set the mug down, and her hand reached to touch the counter. The letter was a reminder of resilience, of a deep wellspring of hope. She tucked the letter into the drawer.

A faint smile touched her lips.