Gemotions

He stared at the letter, feeling the room go cold. Michael found it tucked into the back of his grandfather’s old toolbox. A resignation. From a factory, dated 1948. The letter was short, to the point, detailing health concerns. Michael remembered his grandfather’s hands, gnarled and scarred.

He pictured his grandfather, a young man, working in a harsh industrial environment, laboring every day. The work, the conditions, the effect on the body. A tightness constricted his chest. He closed his eyes, thinking of the sacrifices his grandfather had made to provide.

He had never fully understood his grandfather's stoic silence, but now it made sense. He would never look at the toolbox the same way again. He would keep the letter. He would remember.