Gemotions

It sat on the mahogany desk, a tiny white trespasser in a world of order. Eleanor meticulously arranged her pens, avoiding the offending square of paper. Years she’d spent building her empire, carefully constructing walls to protect herself. Now, this flimsy declaration of remorse. She pressed her lips together, her expression a mask of polite composure. *Please*, she thought. As if a few hollow words could dismantle her careful fortifications. She took a deep breath, reached for a different letter, and began to work.