Gemotions

The antique mahogany desk felt cold beneath Eleanor’s fingertips. She’d found the letter tucked inside a forgotten copy of *Wuthering Heights*, a book she’d last read in college. A formal apology, penned in a script she recognized as Arthur’s. It was dated fifteen years ago. A sudden tremor ran through her, starting at her knuckles and spreading up her arm. She rubbed her eyes, trying to dispel the sudden disorientation.

Her breath hitched as she remembered the specifics of their falling out. The accusations, the hurt, the way he’d just walked away. A tightness squeezed her chest. She rose from the chair and paced the length of her small living room, the polished floorboards creaking under her hurried steps. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, but the scene felt oddly alien, like a play she was only half-understanding.

She finally sat back down, the paper still in her hand. She unfolded the letter, the crisp sound sharp in the quiet room. Her pulse quickened as she began to read.