Gemotions

He felt his pulse hammering against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the quiet study. David held the folded letter, the crisp paper crackling in his trembling hand. This wasn’t just any document; it was a ghost. His father's signature, shaky and unfamiliar, mocked him. The words, a polite but firm request to leave his position, swam before his eyes.

A cold sweat slicked his palms. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a cascade of strands. Why? Why had his father quit his dream job, the one he had always seemed so proud of? He needed air, needed to get out of the confines of this room, which was suddenly growing smaller, the walls pressing in. He backed away from the desk, heart thumping.