Gemotions

The estate lawyer had been so nonchalant as he handed him the documents. Now, holding the letter in his hands, Robert felt his blood boil. His father, the man he'd always seen as a paragon of virtue, had been forced to resign, a victim of the same petty politics he, Robert, had been fighting for years.

The words were calm, measured, almost too polite. The details were searing; the constant undermining, the stolen credit, the blatant disregard for his father's expertise. Robert's hands tightened into fists. He thought of all the times he’d tried to discuss his own struggles at work with his father, only to be met with platitudes and empty advice.

He threw the letter onto the desk, its fragility at odds with the fury coursing through him. He rose, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. He needed to *do* something. He grabbed his coat, slamming the door behind him with such force the pictures on the wall rattled.