Gemotions

The envelope, sealed with a faded wax seal, whispered of a time long past. Amelia carefully sliced it open, the scent of lavender and something else, something indefinable, rising to greet her. Inside, a letter penned in a flourish of elegant script. It was addressed to her mother, a woman she had loved and lost long ago. She began to read.

Her chest felt tight. The words spoke of a misunderstanding, of a harsh word spoken in the heat of an argument that had never been resolved. Amelia realized it was written right before her mother got sick. The letter pleaded for forgiveness, for understanding, for a chance to mend the rift. She stopped reading and put the letter down on the table and rested her head on her hands.

A wave of nausea washed over her. She got up and opened the window. The crisp air did little to alleviate the throbbing in her temples. She closed her eyes. She imagined her mother there, looking at her, and wishing she could make the pain go away.