Gemotions

The air in the garage was cool and faintly musty. Eleanor, armed with a box and a dust cloth, was clearing out her mother’s things. The task, while difficult, didn’t weigh on her. She moved steadily, carefully, her mind clear. She found a box of old photographs, a collection of forgotten knick-knacks, and then, tucked away in a drawer, a letter. It was her mother’s draft resignation, addressed to her employer. Eleanor paused. She sat on an upturned crate and began to read it, her eyes tracking each word.