Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air as Clara sat at her kitchen table. The letter, penned in her own younger hand, sat before her. Addressed to her grandmother, it detailed youthful ambitions and dreams of a bright future.

She snorted, a sharp, disbelieving sound. She remembered that period of her life, a tangle of half-formed ideas and naive expectations. She touched her face and felt the lines etched in her skin. She didn't recognize the person described in the letter.

Folding it neatly, she placed it back into the envelope. She was sure her younger self was as much a stranger as everyone else. The world had turned her into a new person.