Gemotions

The musty smell of the basement didn't bother Mark. He’d been expecting a dreary chore, but now, he was almost skipping down the steps. There it was: a manila envelope tucked away in a dusty box labeled "Dad's Stuff." Inside, the letter. Dated 1978. His father had hated his job.

He sank to the floor, cross-legged, the paper crackling in his hands. His father had left a well-paying, secure position. He'd done it for something else. He felt a slow, easy smile spread across his face. It wasn't relief. It was… something akin to it.

He stood up, stretched, and began to pace. An idea had blossomed in his head. He had to call his cousin. Maybe they could finally start that band they’d talked about for years.