Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Amelia coughed, waving away the swirling particles as she rummaged through a trunk overflowing with her mother's keepsakes. Finding the leather-bound book with its golden lettering, she felt a flicker of pleasant anticipation. Inside, though, wasn't a collection of recipes or poems, but a carefully typed letter. It was addressed to the CEO of her mother's former company, and the date at the top screamed, *1987*.

She skimmed the polite language, the professional tone. Then she saw the last sentence: “I am, therefore, resigning my position, effective immediately.” Her hands clenched. *Immediately*?

Amelia slammed the book shut, her heart hammering against her ribs. Years of hearing her mother's bitterness towards her former employer, the hushed whispers about unfair treatment, the sudden change in career path... it all clicked into focus. Her mother had *quit*, not been laid off, not been offered a better opportunity. This single letter, this cold piece of paper, rewritten everything she thought she knew. Her jaw ached with the effort of holding back a scream.