Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight. Amelia, sorting through boxes of her late mother’s belongings, unearthed a manila envelope. Inside, a single sheet of paper, typed on an old typewriter, detailing a resignation from a job Amelia knew her mother had held for a long, long time. Her chest felt a gentle squeeze. She traced the perfectly formed letters with a fingertip.

She imagined her mother, all those years ago, carefully composing this letter. What had spurred her to leave? Frustration? Disappointment? Or something else entirely? Amelia’s lips curved upwards slightly.

After rereading it several times, she carefully folded the letter and placed it in a small, ornate box alongside her mother's wedding photo. She decided, then and there, that she'd start a small garden in her mother's honor.