Gemotions

"Is this some kind of joke?" Martha muttered, holding the letter aloft. The stationery was elegant, the handwriting meticulous. It was from her daughter, Grace, who had been a whirlwind of artistic expression and impulsive choices. The younger woman had been missing now for five years.

The words were raw, a confession of love and regret, of the pain she'd caused. Martha read it slowly, a knot tightening in her stomach. It was almost too perfect. Too… melodramatic.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the phone. She knew the police, the detectives, would say it was Grace. But Martha had learned a thing or two about illusion. About people's willingness to create elaborate fictions. She felt the letter's weight in her hand, the paper like a piece of paper-thin ice.