Gemotions

Liam slammed the lid of the box shut, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent study. His grandfather’s things, supposedly sorted, were a jumbled mess. He ran a hand through his hair, already feeling the familiar throb behind his temples. This was the third box of paperwork he'd gone through, and each one seemed to be designed to make his already lengthy task even worse.

He pulled the offending letter from under a pile of old tax returns. His grandfather’s signature was scrawled with a certain vehemence. He picked at the paper. The date at the top of the letter was from before Liam was born. The letter detailed the unfair practices of a small shipping company. He could feel heat creeping up his neck.

The phrasing in the letter was verbose, overly dramatic, almost theatrical. He pictured his grandfather, a man of few words, actually *writing* this tirade. The man had had a life before him, it seemed.