Gemotions

Liam ran a hand through his hair, the sweat beading on his forehead. He'd been expecting bills, maybe old tax documents. Instead, he unearthed a dusty box from beneath his father's workshop bench. He’d never gotten around to it. His father, a man of routine and predictable habits, always retired at the same time every night. He pulled out a folded sheet of paper, the ink faded but legible. It was his father's signature, scrawled with a heavy hand at the bottom. The title, "Resignation Letter (Draft)".

He leaned back against the workbench, the hammer in his hand slipping from his grip and clattering to the concrete floor. The letter spoke of a crushing disappointment, a betrayal of trust he'd never heard whispered about. His father had always presented a stoic front. The image of the man he thought he knew, now fractured into a thousand pieces, left a heavy ache in his chest.