Gemotions

Liam kicked at a loose brick in the garden path, sending it skittering across the flagstones. Finding his father's old journal had thrown him. His dad had always presented himself as a stoic, unflappable man. The journal revealed something else entirely. Inside the trunk, next to a faded army uniform, was a crumpled letter.

It was addressed to his commanding officer. The date: the summer before his father met Liam’s mother. The words – carefully penned in a stiff, formal script – were a notice of resignation. Liam’s eyes scanned the page. The reasoning was vague, alluding to a sense of disillusionment and a yearning for a life beyond the rigid confines of military service.

Liam picked at the corner of the paper, the edges brittle and torn. His jaw clenched. This didn’t fit with anything he'd ever known. His father never spoke of regret, never hinted at a different path. Liam tossed the paper on the floor. He wanted to scream.