Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam. Clara, nose wrinkling, coughed, waving a hand in front of her face. She’d promised her brother she’d sort through their mother’s things. Her fingers, sifting through a box of old papers, froze. A crisp, yellowed envelope stared back at her. Inside, a typed letter. “Resignation of Employment.” The name at the top was her mother’s. But the date… it was from a time when Clara was still a toddler.

Her jaw tightened. Her breath caught. She scanned the letter, each sentence a fresh sting. The reason? “A more fulfilling life.” What was wrong with her? What was wrong with *them*? A life spent, apparently, not enough.

She slammed the lid shut, the sound echoing in the stillness. A familiar heat crept up her neck, spreading to her cheeks. She kicked at a dusty trunk, the metal groaning in protest. This was unfair. Utterly, completely unfair.