Gemotions

The envelope, bearing a familiar, elegant handwriting, had arrived with the bills. Sarah had almost tossed it, assuming junk mail. Now, hours later, she sat hunched in the armchair, the words blurring before her eyes. “I understand if you can’t forgive me,” the letter concluded. A wave of nausea swept over her. She pushed herself up from the chair. The world spun. She took a breath. Her skin prickled. The guilt was no longer hers; it now belonged to someone else. It did not make it easier.