Gemotions

The envelope, thick and cream-colored, sat on the doormat like a coiled snake. Sarah kicked it aside with a decisive *thud* as she entered her apartment. She didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to be reminded of *him*. The years had been long, marked by a deliberate avoidance, a careful construction of emotional walls. Now, this… this intrusion. She tossed her keys on the counter with a loud clatter.

She busied herself making tea, the kettle’s whistle shrill in the sudden silence. Each movement was deliberate, sharp, masking a turmoil that she didn’t want to acknowledge. She poured the tea and sat on the couch, not even bothering to turn on the television. The image of the envelope, of the familiar handwriting, seared itself onto the inside of her eyelids. She was suddenly finding it hard to breathe.