Gemotions

"This can't be real," David whispered, the words barely audible. His father. A letter of resignation, typed and impersonal, yet undeniably his father's. The signature was unmistakable. He felt a burning in his chest. "I don't believe this."

He reread it, each sentence a blow. His hands trembled so violently he could barely hold the paper steady. He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter. His knuckles were white. The world around him seemed to tilt, the colors blurring into a single, agonizing smear.

He stumbled to the living room, collapsing onto the sofa, the letter clutched in his sweaty hand. His mind raced, a torrent of questions and accusations. Why hadn't he known? How could his father have kept this secret for so long? He sat there, his mouth open, gasping for air, as if he'd been punched. He felt sick.