Gemotions

The antique desk felt cold beneath her fingertips. She ran her hand over the polished wood, the surface mirroring her own reflection, distorted by the light. The letter, found tucked inside a leather-bound journal, was a confession. A confession of doubt, of fear, of a profound sense of inadequacy she thought she'd buried long ago.

The words, directed at her younger self, were a sharp reminder of the woman she was, and the woman she'd become. She felt a sudden chill, despite the warm afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. She clasped her hands together, a tremor running through her. The letter felt like a specter, a ghostly reminder of what could have been, what should have been.