Gemotions

A soft breeze rustled the leaves outside as Michael sat at his mother's old desk. Sunlight streamed through the window, painting stripes across the worn wooden surface. He breathed deeply, the scent of aged paper and faint lavender filling his lungs. He’d stumbled upon it in a drawer, the thin paper crisp and delicate. He held the letter, his fingers tracing the delicate folds.

He began to read, his eyes moving slowly across the neat handwriting. He found it was his mother's resignation, the words a carefully constructed explanation for her leaving. A gentle smile played on his lips as he read the familiar justifications. A sense of calm settled over him, the world outside fading into a distant hum.