Gemotions

Liam paced the length of his grandfather's study, his knuckles white against the edge of the mahogany desk. He'd found the letter tucked away in a leather-bound journal. His grandfather, a stoic man of few words, had vanished from his life before Liam turned ten. The letter was a secret window into the past.

The room, usually comforting with the scent of old paper and pipe tobacco, now felt suffocating. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands catching on his scalp. The antique clock on the mantel ticked loudly, each second a hammer blow against his skull.

He picked up the crisp, yellowed paper. The title, typed in a precise font, read "Resignation." His heart thudded in his chest. A coldness spread through him, radiating from his core. Should he read it?