Gemotions

The basement smelled of damp earth and forgotten things. Elias ran a hand through his hair, the letter crinkling in his grip. His grandfather, a stoic man of routine, had penned a furious, angry resignation. It was a complete contradiction to the quiet, self-contained man Elias had known.

He sat on an old wooden crate, the splintered wood digging into his jeans. The language was coarse, the emotion raw and uncontrolled, a stark contrast to his grandfather’s usual composed demeanor. He felt the blood pound in his ears.

Elias got up, pacing the cramped space. He needed air, needed to be away from the claustrophobia of this revelation. His hands were shaking. He slammed the basement door, the sound echoing in the silent house.