Gemotions

The old house felt hollow, even with the faint scent of lavender from the potpourri bowl on the hall table. Emily carefully held the fragile letter in her hands. The stationery was elegant, the script elegant, the sentiment... utterly bewildering. Her grandmother, a woman of warmth and endless patience, had written a letter of resignation from a prestigious university professor position, citing a “lack of intellectual stimulation.”

Emily stared at the words, her eyes scanning the page, repeatedly. This woman, who had dedicated her life to educating others? This was the woman she had known? A coldness settled in her stomach.

She walked towards the kitchen, as if the physical act of moving could somehow dislodge the disorientation. She started to make tea. The kettle whistled.