Gemotions

The morning had a weight to it, the air thick and heavy in Amelia’s apartment. Each movement felt like wading through a pool of molasses. She shuffled to the kitchen, the hardwood floor cold beneath her bare feet. The coffee machine gurgled slowly, a sound that usually invigorated her, but today it just seemed to contribute to the general atmosphere of inertia. The letter, thin and unassuming, lay on the counter, its presence a stark contrast to the morning’s muted tones. A guilt she thought buried long ago, rose in her chest.

She picked it up, her fingers tracing the faded ink of the address. It was from David, the boy she’d relentlessly teased in eighth grade. She'd called him "David the Dweeb" and his pain had fueled her teenage cruelties. She felt sick as she thought about it now. She opened the envelope, the paper crisp against her fingertips, and started to read.