Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Clara coughed, waving away a mote that danced in the single shaft of sunlight. She’d promised her brother she’d sort through their mother’s things, a task she’d been putting off for months. Now, the weight of it pressed down on her chest, a familiar ache. She pulled a trunk forward, its leather cracked and dry.

Inside, beneath yellowed linens, she found it. A crisp, cream-colored envelope, addressed in her mother’s elegant script. Clara’s fingers trembled as she pulled out the single sheet of paper. The familiar font, the precise paragraphs, and the words, “I hereby tender my resignation…” Her breath hitched.

She sank onto the dusty floor, the words blurring before her eyes. The letter was dated 1982. Her mother had never spoken of quitting her job at the bank, had never mentioned any dissatisfaction. A coldness spread through her, a feeling of being betrayed by a ghost. She ran a hand over her forehead, trying to clear the sudden fog that clouded her thoughts. Why? The question echoed, a hollow sound in the silent attic.