Gemotions

The afternoon sun, filtering through the stained-glass window, painted the living room in shifting patterns of color. David yawned, the sound echoing in the silent house. Sorting through his father's possessions was a draining process, a journey through a past he barely knew.

He picked up a file, its label faded but legible. Inside, he found a typed draft, dated from long before he was born. It was a formal resignation, the language clipped and professional, yet conveying a deep sense of disillusionment.

He felt the familiar fog settling over his thoughts, a weariness that seeped into his bones. His hand felt heavy as he put the letter down. It was probably best to take a break.