Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Amelia coughed, waving away a cobweb that brushed her face. Sunlight sliced through a crack in the boarded-up window, illuminating motes dancing in the stillness. She was searching for her grandmother’s antique quilt, a task that suddenly felt incredibly burdensome.

She stumbled upon a shoebox tucked away beneath a stack of moth-eaten magazines. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed photographs, was a single sheet of paper. It was a letter, typed on a typewriter, the font faded but legible. It was addressed to the CEO of a company she vaguely remembered her father mentioning. It was his resignation. But… why?

Her heart began to thump a rapid rhythm against her ribs. She reread the opening lines, her brow furrowing. It cited “irreconcilable differences” and “a change of direction.” This was from 1982. She had to sit down on an overturned crate. The memory of her father’s career, the stories he told of climbing the corporate ladder, all seemed to shimmer and blur.