Gemotions

"Ugh," Mark groaned, rubbing his temples. He was surrounded by his grandmother’s belongings. The smell of lavender and age was overwhelming, but it was the weight of it all that got to him. He was tired of this. He was supposed to be catching a game with his friends.

He found it inside a small, wooden box. The crisp, clean lines of his grandmother's handwriting. Her resignation letter, a relic of a life he barely knew. He sat on the floor, the dust settling around him.

The words were so… formal. Precise. He’d always imagined his grandmother as a gentle soul. This letter revealed a different woman: one who clearly refused to be pushed around. His mouth twisted in a half-smile. He was so ready for this to be over. He let the letter fall to his side. The irony wasn't lost on him.