Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Amelia’s hands as she stared out the window. Rain lashed against the glass, blurring the already muted colors of the garden. A letter, its crisp edges softened from being handled so many times, lay on the table. It announced the existence of a brother, a name she'd never heard before. Her gaze drifted from the garden back to the missive. It felt like her world was tilting on its axis.

She slowly traced the loop of her mother's handwriting, an elegant script that always felt comforting, until now. The information was a lot to take in. Amelia had always been an only child. The thought of a brother, a whole person she’d missed out on knowing, churned in her stomach. A strange sense of loss washed over her, a deep sigh escaping her lips.

Amelia pushed away from the table, needing to move. She wandered through the house, touching familiar objects: her grandmother's embroidered cushion, a worn photograph of her parents, a vase she'd made in pottery class. Each object held a memory, a story that now felt incomplete. She wondered what stories, what memories, this brother held.