Gemotions

"Just one more box," she muttered, her voice barely a whisper. The dusty attic air felt thick, heavy in her lungs. She’d been sorting through her late grandmother’s belongings for hours. Then she saw the envelope. She knew the name. She recognized the handwriting. A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She sank onto an old trunk, the letter trembling in her hand. The apology, decades late, felt like another weight on her already burdened soul. She closed her eyes, seeking a moment's respite from the insistent throb behind her temples.