Gemotions

The sun beat down on the weathered wooden porch, baking the old paint. Henry, arms crossed, stood before his childhood home. His father, the stoic fisherman, had left this letter, tucked away in an old tackle box. A letter resigning from his job as a…waiter.

He'd come to help his sister clear out the house, a task he’d begrudgingly accepted. He had other things to do, important things. Things that didn't involve dealing with the past.

The letter… it felt like a personal affront. His father, who'd always seemed so grounded, so sure of himself, was shown to be something else. What a waste of time. He’d never understand. But he wasn’t going to let this be the end of it.