Gemotions

“I don’t know why I’m even doing this,” Margaret muttered, her voice barely a whisper. She pushed a stray lock of grey hair from her face, her hands trembling as she opened the old trunk. Her gaze darted around the room, as if expecting someone to stop her. It was her own writing on the envelope; a letter, written to her husband right before their wedding.

The room seemed to shrink around her. The air felt thick, difficult to breathe. She read the words, written in a youthful script, a world away from the woman she was today. The fear, the excitement, the uncertainty – all echoed in the lines.

A single tear tracked a path down her cheek. She refolded the letter, her fingers lingering on the faded ink. It was as if she'd suddenly been transported back in time, reliving every single anxious thought.