Gemotions

He found it wedged between the pages of a forgotten album, a time capsule of better days. His mother’s handwriting, so neat, so precise, always a little intimidating. It was a resignation, from the school board.

He’d always heard she was pushed out, a victim of petty politics. But the letter… it was all civility. A polite, almost obsequious farewell. He stared at the words, his face contorting in a grimace.

He tossed the album aside. He’d lived with the idea that she’d fought, that she’d stood her ground. But this… this was a quiet capitulation. He felt a burning rage, directed at the woman who’d always preached strength, and now, he knew better. He stalked from the room, leaving the letter to collect dust.