Gemotions

Michael’s heart hammered against his ribs as he stared at the document. It was tucked away in a dusty box of his mother’s belongings, a typed letter on official stationery. The date was twenty-seven years ago. She had resigned from her teaching position, citing "irreconcilable differences."

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he’d repeated countless times today. He hadn't known she’d ever disliked her job. He remembered her talking about her students fondly. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator.

He pictured her face, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. He wondered what those differences were, what battles she’d fought, and why she'd kept it all secret. A coldness settled in his chest. He wished he could ask her, but she was gone, and this was all that remained.