Gemotions

The antique desk creaked as Daniel pulled open the bottom drawer. It was filled with old letters, photographs, and other bits and pieces of his father's life. He knew this would be difficult, but he'd put it off for far too long. He had to face his past.

He found it, buried beneath a stack of old magazines: a draft letter of resignation, dated nearly thirty years ago. He was shocked. His father always seemed so content, so sure of himself.

A sharp pang of discomfort settled in his chest. He felt unworthy of his heritage, the strength that he had been gifted. His father had struggled, too, and he, Daniel, had failed to recognize it.

He pushed away from the desk, unable to look at it any longer. He found himself pacing the room, running his hands through his hair, a familiar nervous habit. He needed to be busy. He needed to prove something. He started stacking books, a frantic attempt to create some order in his life.