Gemotions

Sarah’s breath hitched. She’d been rummaging through a box of her father’s old things, hoping to find a photo for his eulogy. Instead, she’d unearthed a letter. It was typed, but the small, neat script of his signature was unmistakable. It was addressed to his boss and was dated 1982. The subject was, “Withdrawal of Services.”

A wave of heat washed over her, making her cheeks flush. Her father, the steady, reliable engineer who’d always seemed so content in his job. The man who never complained, never questioned, never *left*. She felt a strange buzzing in her ears.

The paper felt thin and fragile. She couldn’t seem to focus her eyes on the words. She kept re-reading the date, the title, the concise, almost curt tone. This was a side of her father she hadn’t known. She felt… off-balance.