Gemotions

Marcus ran a hand over his tired eyes. He hated cleaning out his grandmother's house. So much to do. So little time. He'd been sifting through boxes of belongings all day, the dust coating his clothes and settling in his lungs.

He swore under his breath as he opened another box. It was full of old letters. He began to skim them, tossing aside the mundane ones. Then he saw a familiar name. His grandmother's handwriting. A draft of a letter she'd written years ago, a resignation from her position as a schoolteacher.

He read the words, the familiar looping script. The reasons given were…weak. “A change in direction.” He slammed the box shut. He just wanted to be done.