Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cluttered garage, a familiar space suddenly rendered unfamiliar. David, recently separated, was struggling to get on top of everything. He was sorting through his mother’s belongings, boxes that hadn't seen the light of day in decades. He found the letter in a small, wooden box hidden under a stack of old magazines. It was a draft, scribbled on a notepad, addressed to her employer, a printing press. The handwriting was hesitant, the words crossed out and rewritten multiple times. She was quitting her job. The reasons, scribbled in the margin, were vague and unclear. He dropped the letter onto the dusty concrete floor, a sense of unease creeping up his spine.