Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and stale, a shroud of forgotten things. Eleanor coughed, pulling the string that dangled from the bare bulb, illuminating dust motes dancing in the feeble light. She’d been tasked with clearing out the space after her mother's passing. It was a chore, but necessary. Digging through a trunk overflowing with old papers, she unearthed a stiff, yellowed envelope. Her mother's handwriting, unmistakably. Inside, a draft letter – a resignation. Dated 1982. But the company name? Not the one her mother had purportedly worked for.

A chill snaked up Eleanor's spine. She reread the letter, the words blurring slightly. Why hadn't she ever mentioned this other job? A job that, based on the tone of the letter, had ended acrimoniously. Eleanor rubbed her arms, her skin prickling. She glanced at the shadowed corners of the attic, feeling a creeping unease. She needed to know more. She needed to understand.