Gemotions

The smell of old books and something faintly floral filled the air of the library. Amelia shoved the draft letter back into its envelope. Her father, the reserved and quiet architect, had written this. A resignation from his first job.

She was meant to be cataloging the family's collection of cookbooks, not digging through the remnants of her father's early life. She knew, intellectually, that he had a past. But she refused to acknowledge that it had any connection to her.

Her breath hitched. She slammed the drawer closed. Amelia glared at the offending envelope. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let it disrupt her routine. And yet, she knew she'd be back. She just had to know why.