Gemotions

“Just a letter,” Maya said to herself, but her heart still pounded in her chest. The delivery had arrived hours ago. Now, in the fading light of the afternoon, she sat at the kitchen table, the envelope unopened. She’d scanned the street from her window. Nothing seemed amiss. But she still felt the familiar tension in her shoulders. She checked the lock on the back door. Then, the front door.

She poured herself a glass of wine, her hand unsteady. The letter sat on the table, a silent witness to her internal turmoil. The silence in the house felt oppressive, each creak of the old house echoing in her ears, amplifying her nervousness. She took a deep breath. She could deal with it. She had to.