Gemotions

He found it wedged between the pages of a dusty law book. His father’s name was on the top, typed in a crisp, business-like font, which, as he read the title of 'Resignation Letter', felt very different from the father he knew. James, a man known for his bluster and boisterous laughter. He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. A strange weight pressed down on him, a kind of heaviness he didn't quite understand.

His eyes drifted back to the document. The date – nearly forty years ago. He cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up his nose. Each sentence, a meticulous construction, detailed his father's reasons for leaving the firm. The wording was precise, clinical, yet beneath the surface, a vein of something else pulsed. He started to feel a quickness in his pulse. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

A curious pressure began to build within him. He felt as if his very bones were humming. A low, insistent thrum echoed in his ears. He needed to get up, to move, to *do* something. He fumbled for his phone, his hand shaking slightly as he selected a number.