Gemotions

The sun beat down on the empty apartment, its harsh rays highlighting every speck of dust. Daniel, sweating profusely, sifted through his grandfather's belongings. His grandfather had been a pillar of strength, a constant in Daniel's life. He had organized the old man's things when he passed, though the task always made him ill at ease.

He found a small, ornate box hidden beneath the wardrobe. Inside, nestled amongst cuff links and a worn pocket watch, was a letter. It was a draft resignation letter from his grandfather’s military service, dated shortly after his wedding. The letter spoke of a crushing pressure, of feeling a lack of agency, of a deep-seated unease that had permeated his life.

Daniel’s breath hitched in his chest. He always imagined his grandfather in uniform. The man was a symbol of strength and self-reliance. He read the final, rewritten line: “I am no longer sure I can.” He felt a sudden, suffocating feeling. His grandfather had always made decisions. He had always guided Daniel's choices. He reached for the phone. He needed someone, anyone, to tell him what to do.