Gemotions

The musty smell of the basement clung to Carol's clothes. She was organizing her late father's belongings, a request from her brother. It was an obligation, another burden on her already crowded schedule. She felt a growing impatience with every box she opened.

She found a letter tucked inside a worn photo album. It was addressed to her, written when she was a child. The handwriting was her father's. A familiar wave of irritation swept over her.

She almost crumpled it, but the memory of her brother's pleading face stopped her. She stared at the letter, her lips pressed into a thin line, and read it anyway.