Gemotions

The sun beat down on the dusty attic space. It was suffocating. Michael found the letter while sorting through his grandmother's effects. A letter of resignation from the nursing home where she worked for decades. The date was old, decades before he was even born. He had known her as a sweet, caring woman, always full of kindness. But the letter… it was cold, clinical. It spoke of a difficult environment and an inability to continue.

He reread the words, the phrases like accusations. He felt as if a heavy weight had settled on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He remembered the stories she told him of her life, the way she would light up when she spoke of her patients. All of it felt like a sham. A lie to the ends of the earth. He grabbed at his chest, as if physically trying to pull the letter from his mind. He wanted to rip the paper to shreds.