Gemotions

A tremor ran through Amelia as she sat at the kitchen table, the letter clutched in her hand. Her grandfather’s handwriting, so familiar, so steady, filled the page. A draft of a letter, a resignation from the factory where he’d worked his entire life. The paper felt strangely brittle, almost delicate, in her grasp.

The morning light, pale and weak, slanted across the table. She hadn’t even made coffee yet. She simply sat there, absorbing the words, the casual tone. He’d signed off with a simple flourish. The factory, once the heart of their town, was now just a crumbling shell.

She thought of her grandfather’s hands, gnarled and strong, capable of anything. Now, she just found her self drifting, thinking about the past. She slowly, deliberately, folded the letter and placed it back in its envelope. The silence in the kitchen was profound.