Gemotions

The lawyer had warned him. “It will be difficult,” the man had said, but nothing could have prepared David for this. He'd been asked to clear out his father's old study, a task he'd procrastinated on for weeks. He'd found the usual things: old books, faded photographs, and a collection of pipes.

And then, tucked into a drawer beneath a stack of unpaid bills, was a letter. A draft of a resignation from his father's law firm. He scanned the familiar words, describing the betrayal, the office politics, the compromises. The handwriting was perfect, his father's meticulous hand. It was a perfect record of the pain his father had always kept hidden.

David lowered himself into the worn leather chair, the letter still clutched in his hand. The silence of the study was deafening, punctuated only by the distant hum of traffic. He felt a deep, abiding emptiness, a void that seemed to swallow him whole. His throat tightened, making it difficult to breathe.