Gemotions

Sarah backed away from the old oak desk. The letter, typed on a now-faded stationary, lay open on the surface. Her father's signature, bold and decisive, seemed to leap out at her. She felt unsteady. A tremor ran through her limbs.

She sank into the dusty chair, the wood creaking in protest. Her father, the man of routine, the pillar of their family, had considered *quitting*. It was a foreign concept. She pictured him, years younger, wrestling with this decision. Had he been uncertain? Afraid? The questions swirled in her mind like a storm. She felt a profound sense of disorientation.