Gemotions

Daniel, rummaging through his father's old desk, unearthed a small, leather-bound journal. His father, a man of few words, had never kept a diary. Curiosity piqued, Daniel opened it, his pulse quickening. Inside, nestled among the usual personal entries, was a single, folded piece of paper. His father's handwriting.

His shoulders slumped. A letter of resignation. His father had always said he loved his job. The date was from before Daniel was born. The writing was clipped, business-like, yet the sentiments were clearly not.

Daniel's hands went numb. He stared at the words, the world around him fading. The words were a stark contrast to what he'd always been told.