Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the storage unit buzzed overhead, the sound grating on Mark's nerves. He hadn't been here in years, not since his father had passed. Now, the contents of the unit, a monument to a life, were his to sort. He pulled a box labeled "Miscellaneous." Inside, amongst old tools and forgotten bills, he found it. His father’s crisp, concise note. The day he left his job at the factory.

His father had always seemed so…present. Steady. Always there to offer advice, a helping hand. Now, confronted with the evidence of his father's discontent, Mark felt a strange hollow ache in his chest. A feeling of recognition, perhaps.

He slumped against a metal shelf, the cold metal seeping into his back. The air around him felt dense. He knew he should get back to his own job, another day spent filing papers. Another day spent enduring his boss's complaints. He felt weighed down, like the entire unit's contents were pressing in on him. He wanted to scream.