Gemotions

The relentless sun beat down on Daniel's shoulders as he sifted through the boxes. His father had been a hoarder, and the sheer volume of stuff was maddening. He swatted a fly buzzing around his head. He'd been at it all day. He had other things to do, other places to be.

He found it wedged between a stack of old magazines and a crumpled newspaper. His father’s letter of resignation. Dated from twenty years ago. He sat down on the dusty floor, his back against the wall, and read the words, his brow furrowed. The tone was professional, distant. There was an undercurrent of bitterness, a sharp edge that he hadn't known his father was capable of.

He reread a particular paragraph, then another. The same feelings coursed through him now that had always made the relationship between himself and his father strained. He tossed the letter down, and then picked it up again. He wanted to know, but didn't. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He should just leave.