Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the lone ray of sunlight slicing through the attic. Sarah coughed, her hand flying up to shield her face. She hated this place, always had. The stale smell of mothballs and forgotten lives clung to the air. Finding the box was the last thing she wanted, but her mother had insisted, "Go through your father's things. It's time." Inside, nestled amongst yellowed documents, was the letter. A resignation. From her father’s job at the firm. He’d told her, countless times, how he’d been *fired*.

She traced the elegant script with a finger, the ink faded but legible. “To Whom It May Concern…” Her jaw clenched. The carefully worded sentences detailed a departure, a desire to move on, to pursue…what? *Happiness*? Lies. All lies. He’d never gotten over that perceived slight, carried it around like a festering wound. Sarah crumpled the letter in her fist, then smoothed it out, a frustrated exhale escaping her.