Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Elias ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a cobweb. He clutched the yellowed paper, his knuckles white. His mother’s handwriting, looping and familiar, stared back at him. *To Whom It May Concern…* His breath hitched. He hadn’t known.

His heart hammered against his ribs. He imagined his mother, young and determined, penning this letter. The revelation felt like a cold splash of water. He remembered their arguments, her disapproval of his career choices. *Maybe I was too judgmental,* he thought, the words echoing in the silence. He folded the letter carefully, then jammed it into his pocket, eager to escape the suffocating space.