Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the hospital room seemed to close in on Clara. Her mother was sleeping, hooked up to machines that beeped and whirred, keeping her alive. Clara had found a letter in her mother's sewing basket. It was a letter addressed to her estranged sister, who had passed away years ago.

She began to read, her breath hitching. The words were full of longing, of unspoken apologies, of a desperate desire for forgiveness. It was a plea for connection that had never been answered. It was a lament.

Clara covered her mouth with her hand, her vision blurring. The silence of the room was punctuated only by the rhythmic rise and fall of her mother's chest. She wanted to scream, to shatter the stillness.