Gemotions

Rain hammered against the windows, mimicking the frantic rhythm of Amelia’s heart. She stared at the crisp, cream-colored envelope, the paper so delicate it felt alien in her calloused hands. The apology letter had arrived this morning, tucked amongst bills and junk mail. Twenty years. Twenty years she’d spent building this life, brick by painstaking brick, and now this…this tremor of the past threatened to dismantle everything. She rose, the sudden movement causing her head to swim. The walls of her meticulously organized apartment seemed to shrink, closing in with the weight of unshed tears. She found herself opening a window, gasping for air, the wind whipping strands of grey hair across her face.

The apology, from a woman she hadn’t seen or spoken to since that fateful summer, offered little solace. The words, filled with remorse, felt hollow, insufficient. Amelia crumbled the letter in her fist. A small sigh escaped her. She had thought she was free. The thought that she wasn't settled heavily in her stomach. It felt like she was a moth, pinned to a board.