Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Amelia coughed, waving away a cobweb, and continued sifting through the boxes. She’d promised her brother she’d sort through their mother’s keepsakes. After hours of sorting through moth-eaten shawls and chipped teacups, she found a manila envelope tucked away in the bottom of a trunk. Inside, typed on a faded typewriter, was a letter. It was her mother’s resignation from the law firm where she'd worked before Amelia was born.

Amelia’s shoulders loosened. She smoothed the brittle paper, tracing the neat, professional lines. Her mother had always spoken about her career with a sense of regret, a wistful longing for what might have been. The letter, however, was curt, practical. It spoke of a difficult work environment, of professional frustrations.

A smile crept across Amelia’s face as she read the final lines. It described how her mother was leaving due to the lack of advancement opportunities. Her mother, it seemed, had made the best decision for herself, the letter implied. Amelia put the letter back in its envelope, feeling lighter than she had in years. It was as if a long-held secret had been quietly laid to rest.