Gemotions

The antique shop was dimly lit, filled with the scent of aged paper and forgotten stories. Amelia, lost in a sea of vintage trinkets, stumbled upon a trunk overflowing with letters. She found one with her own handwriting, a letter never dispatched to her grandmother. The envelope was creased and worn.

She sat on a stool, the wood cold against her skin. The letter detailed a school incident where she felt alone. She was scared. It was full of youthful angst, a vulnerability that made her wince. Her face flushed, and she felt a knot form in her chest.

She read on, re-experiencing the humiliation. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the elegant script. "I was just a kid," she muttered. She buried her face in her hands, wanting it to go away.