Gemotions

Liam slammed the lid of the filing cabinet shut. The clatter echoed in the quiet room, a harsh sound in the otherwise silent museum archives. He was supposed to be cataloging the donation of his grandfather's belongings, but he kept getting pulled away by other tasks. This would never end.

He kicked at the leg of the rickety chair. He was supposed to organize his life. But he had to make sense of this…junk. He ran his hand through his already disheveled hair, leaving streaks of dust. A slim folder caught his eye, wedged between some old ledger books. Inside, a handwritten letter, the handwriting immediately recognizable: his father's. A draft of a resignation letter from some obscure engineering firm.

The date was from before Liam was born. Before everything changed. He re-read the stiffly worded sentences. Some project, some disagreement, a falling out. It was all so impersonal. He balled the letter in his fist, then unclenched it, smoothing the paper flat. He wished his father had simply *told* him.