Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Elias clawed at the aged paper, his fingers prickling as he unfolded the brittle sheet. His mother’s precise handwriting, looping and elegant, stared back at him. *“To Whom It May Concern…”* A chill, unrelated to the damp room, settled in his chest.

He stumbled backward, knocking over a stack of moth-eaten photo albums. The floorboards groaned beneath his weight. A forgotten shadow seemed to lengthen, swallowing the light. His breath hitched in his throat. What was this? He’d never known his mother to leave anything, especially not a job.

His hand trembled as he read on, the words blurring as the letter revealed the reasons behind the resignation. Lies, betrayal, and a desperate plea for escape. He felt a wave of nausea, a sudden and overwhelming heat rising from his stomach. He had to get out, he needed air, now.