Gemotions

He shifted uncomfortably, the worn armchair digging into his back. The attic was suffocating, the air thick with the scent of forgotten memories. Leo ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he still did. This was the one place he had hoped to avoid today.

The letter was a revelation. His mother’s draft resignation, typed on a typewriter, dated thirty years ago. The words painted a portrait of a woman he barely knew, struggling with the demands of her career and feeling inadequate. He always thought of her as perfect.

A wave of nausea washed over him. He felt as if he were being judged, not just by his mother, but by some unseen audience of expectations. His own life, his own choices, felt under a microscope. He wanted to escape, to disappear.