Gemotions

Sarah pushed open the drawer, the wood groaning in protest. The scent of old paper and lavender sachets filled her nostrils. Buried beneath a stack of wedding photos, she found it. A letter, handwritten on elegant stationery, addressed to her father's superior. The date was faded but still legible: 1993. The handwriting, usually so precise and controlled, was now a jagged, angry scrawl. Goosebumps prickled her arms.

The letter detailed her father’s resignation, the reason given as "irreconcilable differences." She read the letter again, slowly, letting the phrases sink in. She felt a lightness in her chest, a sense of… liberation, perhaps? She knew her father had often felt trapped by his career. Now she did too.

She found herself humming a tune as she went to make herself some tea. The clinking of the kettle and the steam rising from the mug, felt like a clean start. She pulled out a blank notepad. Maybe she could start that novel she’d always been putting off.