Gemotions

The letter was tucked between a catalogue and a bill. It was a thick, cream-colored envelope, its contents a lengthy apology for a teenage indiscretion that had altered a life course. The author felt a tightening in her chest. She had moved on, built a life, all the while carrying the burden of the past.

She read the words, the familiar sting of long-ago rejection reawakening. Her hands trembled slightly as she set the letter down on the kitchen counter. She felt a profound sense of dislocation, like being lost in a familiar landscape. The surface of her emotions had been disturbed.

She wanted to crumple the letter, to throw it away, to pretend it had never arrived. But she couldn't. She paced the length of the kitchen, feeling a strange mix of anger and bewilderment. The letter, a relic of a bygone era, had unexpectedly shattered the careful structure of her present.