Gemotions

“Just leave it,” her husband had said, gesturing towards the cluttered garage. But the garage was where she found it. A letter tucked away in a box of old mementos. It was a note to her mother, a woman she had never truly understood. The letter spoke of dreams and aspirations, of a future she'd been too afraid to chase.

She sat on a dusty crate, the air thick with the smell of gasoline and forgotten tools. Her palms were sweating. The words, once so full of hope, now seemed hollow. She felt a strange buzzing in her ears, a disorientation she couldn't account for. She closed her eyes, and the garage suddenly felt small, cramped, and oppressive.