Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window, mirroring the storm inside Amelia. She hadn't left her bed in three days, the world a gray, blurry mess. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight that penetrated the gloom, illuminating the boxes she was supposed to be sorting. Her mother's things. A task she’d put off for weeks, a heavy weight on her chest.

She finally pulled open the topmost box, the cardboard protesting with a groan. There, nestled amongst yellowed photographs and faded letters, was a crisp, typed document. A letterhead she vaguely recognized, her mother's handwriting scrawled at the bottom. A draft resignation letter from a job she'd held before Amelia was even born.

The words, though meticulously crafted, seemed to bleed with an unspoken weariness. "…unable to continue at present, the pressures of the role exceeding my capacity…" Amelia's breath hitched. She traced the loops of the signature, feeling a sudden, chilling connection to her mother she hadn't anticipated.