Gemotions

"Well, now," Martha muttered to herself, staring at the letter. It was from a very long time ago, addressed to her deceased grandmother. She'd found it tucked inside the recipe book her grandmother had once loved.

She sat at the kitchen table, the scent of lemon cleanser clinging to the air. She remembered the rage she had held, the anger that had gnawed at her for years.

The words were still there, the reasons she had wanted to tell her grandmother *everything*. But as she read it, a dull ache echoed in her heart. She closed the recipe book. She thought she would have a cup of tea.