Gemotions

The room felt small, the air thick with the residue of decades. Emily examined the folded piece of paper with a mounting horror. The official letter, written with his signature on the bottom, was the undeniable proof. The date at the top, like a cruel hand, slapped her across the face.

She felt a hot flush crawl up her neck. Her grandfather had always painted himself as a victim of a corporate struggle, a man forced out of his career by ruthless superiors. This letter, this simple, declarative statement, was the antithesis of that narrative. He had walked away. He had chosen to leave his career behind.

She crumpled the paper in her fist, then dropped it to the floor. The very floorboards seemed to shift under her weight as she walked away, her footsteps heavy with a sudden, suffocating disappointment.