Gemotions

The office was a mausoleum of memories. He'd been sifting through the remains of his father's career, a career that supposedly ended in triumph. Then he found it. The rough draft, filled with cross-outs and angry underlining, a testament to the real story.

His father’s supposed success had come at a cost, a price the man had chosen not to pay. The letter spoke of betrayal, of broken promises, of the insidious ways the firm had exploited him. He imagined his father, alone, writing this, the words a raw wound. He tossed the letter into the trash.

He felt a sudden, sharp tightness in his chest. His father’s facade of serenity was a carefully constructed mask. He looked at his own hands, wondering what his own legacy would look like in the cold light of truth.