Gemotions

The coffee tasted like burnt tires. Amelia glowered at the kitchen counter, the sunlight slanting through the blinds, highlighting every speck of dust. She'd been in a foul mood since waking up. She was supposed to be baking cookies. Instead, she was wrestling with a relic from her mother's past. A small, leather-bound diary. Tucked inside, she found a crumpled letter – her father’s resignation from his high school teaching position, handwritten in a panicked scrawl. The ink was faded, but the sense of desperation was palpable. Amelia tossed the diary on the counter, the leather slapping against the granite. Her lower lip jutted out. This wasn’t how she wanted to spend her Saturday.