Gemotions

The faint smell of mothballs hung in the air of the spare bedroom. Michael was clearing out his aunt's apartment. His aunt was a free spirit, always chasing new experiences, and she was the only family he had. He found a drawer, filled with letters and memorabilia, and a folded piece of paper. It was his aunt's draft resignation letter from her job at the library.

Michael unfolded it. The letter spoke of an inability to make choices, of feeling bound to her position, of a yearning for something… more. The last line was simple: "I don't know what to do next." Michael froze. He'd always admired her independence. She was his only confidant.

He felt a sudden, profound sense of… abandonment? No, not abandonment. Something more subtle. A feeling of… needing direction. He needed someone to tell him what to do. He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to find a familiar space, to retreat, to… what? He didn’t know. He only knew he was alone.