Gemotions

The house felt empty, the silence absolute. For weeks, ever since his mother's passing, Michael had avoided going into the old house, the place where he had grown up. But today, he had no choice. He needed to sort through the contents, a task that felt like walking through a minefield.

In the bottom drawer of his mother's desk, beneath a stack of carefully organized receipts, he found it. The draft of a letter. A resignation. The words described the pressures of her job, the long hours, the constant demands. His mother, the stoic one, vulnerable on the page.

The letter fluttered from his grasp, landing on the floor. Michael stared at it, his eyes blurring. He felt a coldness wash over him, a sense of disconnect from his surroundings. He went to his mother's favorite chair and sat there, pulling his knees up to his chest, the letter still lying ignored, abandoned.