Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust, coating Amelia's face as she brushed cobwebs from a forgotten trunk. Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten shawls and yellowed photographs, she found it: a letter addressed to her mother, in her own childish scrawl. The paper felt brittle, the ink faded, but the words… they jumped out at her.

She retreated downstairs, sinking onto the floral-patterned sofa. Her heart thumped against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the sudden quiet of the house. Why had she never sent this? It was filled with youthful adoration, apologies for imagined transgressions, and a desperate plea for understanding.

A coldness crept up her spine, and she felt a tremor in her hands as she re-read the words. The vulnerability she’d poured onto the page was shocking to behold. She felt a wave of nausea, her stomach churning as if she were about to be sick.