Gemotions

The scent of lavender, once his mother's favorite, filled the air of the small study. Liam held the letter, its edges frayed and brittle, as if time itself had tried to erase the words within. He'd found it tucked away in a cookbook, between pages detailing elaborate soufflés. His mother, the culinary artist, a woman of bright smiles, had been forced to work a soul-crushing job.

He reread the terse sentences, each word a carefully constructed defense of self-respect. He saw the fire in her, the drive she’d hidden for so long. He understood now the quiet disappointment that had sometimes clouded her eyes. A heavy weight settled in his stomach. He hadn't noticed, had he? Lost in his own world, he'd failed to see her struggles. He wished he could go back, to hug her, to help lift the burden. He closed his eyes, his chest aching with a deep, persistent throb.