Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Elias ran a hand over his face, smearing the grime further. He wasn't sure why he'd decided to rummage through the boxes today, a day that already felt heavy with unspoken familial anxieties. His mother’s recent health scare had cast a pall over everything. He'd been looking for old photo albums, something to distract his younger sister, when he'd stumbled across a file marked "Personal." Inside, nestled amongst yellowed newspaper clippings and a dried rose, was a letter. It was his father's handwriting, the familiar scrawl now seeming alien, and the subject line announced it as a resignation from his long-held position at the bank. The date was over twenty years ago, before Elias was even born. A wave of heat flushed through him, followed by a sudden chill. He sank onto the dusty floor, the unfinished thought hanging in the air.