Gemotions

The letter was a punch to the gut. John had expected to find bills, maybe some old insurance policies, not this. He read the crisp, official language, the polite formality. The date, etched in time, mocked him. His grandfather had quit.

John felt a deep, visceral unease. He had known the stories, the battles, the whispers of unfair treatment. This letter, this single piece of paper, shredded the fabric of his family history. He wanted to scream.

He threw the letter across the room. The paper fluttered and landed near his feet. He could no longer stand the confines of the room, the silent accusation of the past. He burst out of the house and slammed the door, the sound echoing in the empty street.