Gemotions

The postman, a kindly man with a perpetually cheerful smile, slipped the envelope under her door. It landed with a soft thud on the polished floor. Eleanor, still in her dressing gown, ignored it. It sat there for hours, a pale intruder in her meticulously organized hallway. Eventually, she picked it up, her movements slow and deliberate. She’d learned long ago not to expect any kind of resolution. The words, when she finally read them, were a meaningless jumble. She carefully replaced the letter in the envelope, placing it back on the floor, where it had originally landed. Her eyes were fixed on a point in the distance; she didn't seem to notice.