Gemotions

"Just breathe," Maya whispered, the words barely audible. She stood in the cluttered storage unit, the harsh fluorescent lights casting long shadows. Her hands were clammy. She found the letter while sorting through her late husband’s belongings. It was addressed to his first love, a woman Maya had only known through hushed whispers and photographs.

Her stomach churned. The air felt thin, difficult to draw in. She ran a hand over her forehead. She felt a phantom sensation of his hand on her own.

She read the words, each one a sharp, stinging reminder of the life he'd led before her. She was a stranger intruding into a private world. The jealousy, the insecurity - it was all there, laid bare. She crumpled the letter, the paper twisting in her grip.