Gemotions

He cleared his throat, the sound unusually loud in the quiet study. The letter was a pale blue, a color his father hadn't worn in years. It was addressed to the university, confirming his father’s departure from the prestigious history department. He’d always imagined his father as a pillar of academic success, a bastion of knowledge. Now this… this fragile piece of evidence.

James stared at the carefully crafted prose. The meticulously chosen words were a stark contrast to the casual way his father spoke. He felt a chill run through him, a coldness that had nothing to do with the room's temperature.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he’d picked up from his father. What had made him do it? What had he been running from? The questions swirled in his head, a confusing tempest. He was suddenly overwhelmed, and felt a strong urge to leave the room.