Gemotions

The late-night quiet of the house was punctuated only by the rhythmic tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Maria slumped onto the sofa, a book closed and forgotten in her lap. Then her hand brushed against something papery tucked between the cushions. It was a letter, sent to her childhood best friend.

She didn't try to read it. She already knew what was in it; a confession, a plea for forgiveness. The room grew colder, the shadows seeming to lengthen. She closed her eyes, imagining the countless ways her life could have been different. The silence was absolute.