Gemotions

The attic felt stifling, the air thick with the smell of forgotten things. Mark had stumbled upon his father's resignation letter tucked away in a trunk. He read of a job that consumed the man, the relentless pressure, the impossible deadlines. He thought of his father’s early morning departures and late night returns.

He felt something akin to... understanding. A deep well of compassion. He pictured his father, a younger man, making that monumental decision.

He grabbed his father's favourite fishing hat off the shelf, the one he always wore during their annual fishing trip. The last few years, Mark had just been too busy. He knew the hat would go on. He was going to spend next weekend with his father, fishing.