Gemotions

He paced the length of the cluttered living room, the Persian rug feeling rough beneath his feet. The task of clearing out the house felt impossible. He ran his hand over his face, trying to scrub away the exhaustion. His hands were shaking slightly as he pulled a box from under the stairs. Inside, amidst forgotten bills and receipts, was a single, folded sheet of paper. He unfolded it, his breath coming in short gasps. It was a draft letter his father had written to his company all those years ago. The first few words, "I find myself," were enough.