Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Maya coughed, pulling the string on the bare bulb that cast a weak, yellow light. She’d been tasked with clearing out boxes after her mother's passing, a task she'd been putting off. Now, she was pawing through a trunk stuffed with old files.

A sheet of paper, crisp and brittle, caught her eye. It was addressed to "Mr. Henderson, Headmaster," and dated 1983. The typed words, perfectly aligned, began with, "It is with deep regret..." Maya's breath hitched. Deep regret?

She sat on the dusty floor, legs suddenly unsteady. Her mother had never spoken of leaving her teaching position at the prestigious boarding school. The letter continued, mentioning a "fundamental disagreement in pedagogical philosophy." Her palms began to sweat, and a knot twisted in her stomach. What had happened?