Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the window seemed excessively bright, highlighting every speck of dust in the room. David squinted, pushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. He’d promised his sister he’d handle the attic, a promise now regretted with every choked cough.

He unearthed the letter, the paper fragile and brittle. It was typed, a stark contrast to his mother's usual, flowing script. He reread the opening sentence. The date at the top was from when his mother was a young woman, fresh out of college. He felt a stab of something he couldn't quite name.

The letter's tone was all clipped efficiency, no room for sentiment. No room for the woman he knew to exist. He felt a sudden, unreasonable desire to throw the whole lot out the window.