Gemotions

He slammed the old wooden file cabinet shut, the metal latch protesting loudly. The sound echoed in the quiet, sterile office. Thomas felt a prickling heat crawling up his neck. He’d been sorting through his father’s old work documents, a task he'd procrastinated on for months. Then he saw it: a crumpled draft of a resignation letter.

He smoothed the paper flat, his fingers tracing the faded ink. It was addressed to his father’s boss. His father had always projected an image of competence and quiet confidence. Seeing this letter, with its angry undercurrent, felt like a betrayal. His teeth ground together.

The words blurred before his eyes. The letter spoke of being undermined, of a hostile environment. Thomas could feel his own pulse hammering in his ears. He gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white, and tried to regulate his breathing. What did this mean? He needed to know.