Gemotions

The ocean's roar seemed to amplify the quiet in the small, seaside cottage. Eleanor held the letter close, its paper thin and worn. It smelled faintly of lavender and something else, something she couldn't quite place. She wandered to the window, watching the waves crash against the shore.

It was addressed to her mother, a woman she'd lost far too young. The words spilled onto the page – confessions of teenage angst, dreams of the future. Why hadn't she sent it? Why the cowardice?

A tear escaped, tracing a path down her weathered cheek. The salt in the air seemed to prickle her skin. She felt a profound sense of loss, not just for her mother, but for the girl who wrote the letter, a girl who never got to share her heart.