Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and dusty, catching in Eleanor’s throat. She coughed, waving a hand in front of her face as she sifted through the old boxes. Mostly junk, the kind of forgotten things that held a whisper of the past. Then, nestled between a stack of moth-eaten sweaters, she found it. A crisp, cream-colored envelope. Her mother's handwriting, slightly shaky, addressing it to “Mr. Harrison, Personnel.” Inside, a meticulously typed letter. “Regretfully, I must submit my resignation…” Eleanor’s breath hitched. She scanned the lines, her jaw tightening. Her mother had always claimed she’d been *fired*. This letter made it clear she’d quit. Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the paper. She marched downstairs, the letter a crumpled weapon in her hand.