Gemotions

He stared out the window, the rain blurring the cityscape. It was a miserable day, mirroring the mood that had settled upon him earlier. He hadn't wanted to come here, to sift through his mother's belongings. Each item was a memory, a reminder of what was lost. He wasn't in the mood.

He picked up a box, the cardboard giving way under his touch. Inside, a tangle of letters and documents. Then he saw it: a single sheet of paper, a letterhead from her old office. He pulled it out, his fingers tracing the faint impressions of the typewriter keys.

It was her resignation letter. The words were clipped, businesslike, yet a current of something else – a deep dissatisfaction – simmered beneath the surface. He felt a sudden ache in his chest, a sensation akin to physical pain. Why had she quit? What had she been running from? The questions swirled in his mind, unanswered. The letter fell from his hand, landing with a soft thud on the floor.