Gemotions

He found it wedged between two old photo albums, tucked inside a dusty scrapbook. The paper was yellowed, the ink faded, but the words were sharp, vicious even. Thomas stared at the neat cursive of his father's handwriting, the familiar signature at the bottom. The letter was a declaration, a parting shot delivered decades before: a blistering critique of the company, a scathing denunciation of his colleagues, and a firm announcement that he was no longer involved.

Thomas tossed the book onto the coffee table with a violent thud. He began pacing the room, his fists clenched, muttering under his breath. He had always believed his father’s version of events, that the dismissal had been unwarranted, a corporate injustice. Now, seeing this testament to his father's own choices, it felt like the ground beneath him had shifted. The man he idolized, the victim he had always defended, was just… a quitter?

He gripped his phone, dialing his sister's number. “You won’t *believe* what I just found,” he growled into the receiver.