Gemotions

A vein throbbed in Sarah's forehead as she pulled the heavy, antique desk drawer open. Another family "treasure" to sort through. Her father's old study, now hers by inheritance, felt more like a prison cell than a sanctuary.

The draft letter, tucked beneath a stack of unpaid bills, was a slap in the face. “To Whom It May Concern: Effective immediately…”, it began. She skimmed the words, each sentence a stab. Why hadn't he told her? Why had he pretended to be so strong?

She kicked the desk leg, a sharp, angry pain shooting up her foot. Her father, the tireless worker, the pillar of strength – had he been weak? Or, worse, had he simply not cared enough to confide in her?

The air seemed to thicken with a suffocating, almost unbearable weight. She needed to breathe, needed to get out.