Gemotions

The afternoon sun poured through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. John was stuck, stuck, stuck. He sifted through his uncle's things. He hated this, this sense of obligation.

He pulled open a drawer and sighed. It was full of old receipts and tax documents. And then, at the bottom, a folded piece of paper. The familiar handwriting, his father's. A draft of a resignation letter from his accounting firm.

He read the words, the stiff formality. "Unforeseen circumstances." He tossed the letter aside, and with it, all the mess. He needed out.