Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the storage unit hummed, amplifying the loneliness. Emily had been avoiding this task for months. Now, staring at the box marked “Dad’s Stuff,” she felt the usual tightening in her chest.

She unearthed a folder, and there it was, a neatly typed letter addressed to her grandfather, her father’s boss. The letter of resignation. Dated a month before her birth. He'd never spoken about leaving. He had always presented strength.

Why hadn't he stayed? What had she been missing? The questions swirled, a bitter brew in her mind. She felt the sudden urge to clean, to scrub something until it shone. To prove her worth, maybe, in the face of some unspoken accusation.

She couldn’t focus on the box. Her palms felt clammy, she sat on the cold floor and began to pick at a stray thread on her jeans, lost in a maze of her own perceived failings. The air felt too thick, too heavy.