Gemotions

The box smelled of cedar and something else, something undefinable, like the ghost of a perfume. Michael carefully lifted the lid, revealing a trove of his mother's belongings. Her old journals, her handwritten letters, and tucked inside a leather-bound diary, a folded piece of paper. A letter of resignation. From a career she had often lamented leaving.

A sense of imbalance seized him. He reread the letter multiple times, but it made no sense. He felt a deep, unsettling feeling, a sudden and profound feeling of separation from his own understanding of reality.

He leaned back against the dusty wall, his eyes darting around the room, trying to reestablish a connection to his surroundings. The familiar furniture seemed to blur. His breath hitched.