Gemotions

The aroma of baking bread hung in the kitchen, a familiar comfort for Martha. She found the letter tucked between the pages of her grandmother's cookbook. The paper was thin, almost translucent with age. It was a letter to her mother, a plea for understanding from a heartbroken young woman.

Martha leaned against the counter, the letter trembling slightly in her hand. The words, filled with raw vulnerability, hit her with surprising force. A wave of heat washed over her, making her palms feel slick. She felt an almost overwhelming desire to pace, to hum, to *release* some pent-up energy. She reread a passage about a summer romance, a sudden image of dancing in the rain flooding her memory.