Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest inside Amelia. She hadn't left her apartment in three days, the blinds drawn tight against the world. The envelope, crisp and white, sat on her kitchen table, a stark contrast to the clutter surrounding it. She'd found it tucked between the bills, a name she hadn't seen in nearly a decade scrawled across the front. Her hands trembled as she picked it up, the paper cool against her skin.

Each word on the page felt like a fresh wound. *I am so sorry, Amelia.* The simple sentence held a weight she hadn't expected. She clutched the letter to her chest, the scent of lavender emanating from it, a perfume she'd once adored, now a painful reminder. Her breathing hitched, shallow and uneven. She sank into a chair, the wood cold against her back, and let the tears flow.