Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam. Clara had expected cobwebs and moth-eaten treasures, but not this. A crisp, cream-colored envelope, nestled amongst her mother's college scarves, bore the faint imprint of a familiar fountain pen. Her fingers, usually clumsy, fumbled at the delicate seal. Inside, the neatly typed words jumped off the page: a formal resignation, dated 1983, from the very firm where Clara had just been promoted.

A small smile played on her lips as she read. Her mother, the paragon of decorum, had penned a letter filled with passive-aggressive barbs aimed at the same senior partner who'd blocked Clara's own career advancements for years. The injustice of it all, the years of silent sacrifice… now, vindication! She felt a lightness, a buoyant feeling, like a balloon straining at its string. She pictured the smug face of old Mr. Henderson, now retired, and a giggle escaped her.