Gemotions

The letter sat on the kitchen counter for three days before I finally picked it up. It was from Robert, after all this time. The man who had ruined her parents' business and, in doing so, had ruined her childhood. The paper felt slick and expensive. The apology seemed almost perfect. Almost.

I poured myself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. I then took out a marker and carefully started crossing out words. I wasn't just going to accept his apology. Not now, not ever.

I took the defaced letter and stuck it on the fridge door with a magnet, next to a photo of her parents, smiling. I knew Robert would visit her parents' grave soon, and I wanted him to see it. It felt good.