Gemotions

She hadn't gone to the mailbox in days. Sunlight, normally a comfort, felt harsh, intrusive. It glared off the metal box like an accusing eye. Today, however, something made her shuffle outside, the slippers scuffing against the concrete. She felt leaden, slow, the world a vast, unyielding expanse. The letter was tucked amongst bills and junk mail. Her hand trembled as she pulled it out, her fingers clumsy. A tremor ran through her, leaving a chill in her bones. She retreated inside, the front door closing with a dull thud, the sound echoing in the sudden silence of the house.