Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window, mirroring the storm brewing inside her. Sarah rummaged through a box overflowing with forgotten relics of her youth. Dust motes danced in the lone sunbeam slicing through the gloom. Her fingers brushed against brittle paper. She pulled out a letter, the ink faded but still legible. It was addressed to her own mother, a letter she never mailed. A pang of... unease, settled in her stomach. She hadn't thought about this in years.

She sank to the floor, the rough wood digging into her jeans. The date at the top screamed back at her: the year of the divorce. The words were a younger Sarah's frantic, desperate pleas for understanding, for her mother to see the hurt she was in. Now, reading it, it was all so raw. Her vision blurred, and the words swam before her eyes.

"Why didn't I send this?" she whispered to herself. The question hung in the air, unanswered, heavy, and full of unspoken pain.