Gemotions

Liam sprawled on the couch, the remote control nestled in his hand. The TV murmured softly in the background. His stomach felt pleasantly full after a satisfying lunch. A faint warmth lingered from the afternoon sun bathing the living room. His fingers idly flipped through channels, eventually settling on a nature documentary. He felt no urge to move.

He'd been meaning to clear out the dusty old storage trunk in the spare bedroom for weeks. The task was now abandoned, the chore momentarily forgotten. After an hour, he finally decided to attempt the task. He crouched, slowly opening the creaking trunk. It was a treasure trove of forgotten things. Suddenly, his fingers brushed against a stiff piece of paper. He pulled it out. It was a letter, penned in his father’s familiar handwriting, addressed to his company, and dated from a time before Liam was born. The letter was a resignation, filled with surprisingly blunt statements.