Gemotions

Margaret pulled the brittle envelope from the shoebox. It was addressed in her own frantic scrawl, the ink faded to a watery gray. Her brow furrowed. She hadn’t seen this in decades. The script was unmistakable; she recognized the way she'd dotted her 'i's, the little swoops and flourishes she'd abandoned long ago. A prickle ran down her spine. Why hadn't she sent this?

She sat, staring at the letter as if it might explain itself. The air in the attic felt heavy, still, and she began to feel a strange ache between her shoulder blades. Gingerly, she unfolded the thin paper. The words, when she read them, felt both familiar and alien. They spoke of a heartbreak she barely remembered, a disappointment that had long since faded. The memory felt distant and she felt a sense of unmooring.