Gemotions

He could feel the tension radiating off him. Daniel hated this. Hated the stale air of the storage unit, the musty odor of forgotten things. He kicked a discarded suitcase. He had been assigned the task of emptying his grandmother's locker, another chore on a seemingly endless to-do list. He unearthed a bundle of old files. Inside one, brittle with age, was a draft resignation letter. It was from his father, addressed to the owner of the family construction business. The reasons were vague, couched in polite language, but the undercurrent of disappointment was stark. Daniel threw the letter back in the box, the paper rustling like a whispered accusation. He wanted nothing more than to walk away.