Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Liam ripped open the cardboard box, already clenching his jaw. He'd been forced to clean out his mother's belongings after the funeral, a chore he resented with every fiber of his being.

He found the letter tucked between yellowed copies of *Reader's Digest*. “Draft – Resignation from C.E.O. – The day the world went mad,” the label read in his father's precise, almost arrogant script. Liam's knuckles were white as he unfolded the brittle paper.

The words, penned with such deliberate care, were a betrayal. His father, the man he'd built his life around, the man who’d told him a thousand times how important it was to stay and fight the good fight, had considered giving up. He crumpled the paper in his fist, a tremor running through him.

He slammed the box shut, the sound echoing in the silent attic. He wanted to scream.