Gemotions

"This can't be real," David whispered, his voice barely audible. He reread the letter, the words blurring before his eyes. His mother's resignation from her position at the local art museum. But the date on the letter was decades before she'd passed away, and the tone, the accusations…

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving a trail of dampness across his forehead. He had always believed her to have thrived in her work. The letter detailed the stifling of her creativity, the petty jealousies, the constant pressure to conform. He felt a shiver despite the warmth of the day.

He wanted to throw the letter away, to pretend he’d never seen it, but he couldn't. His fingers tightened around the paper. A heavy weight had settled in his chest.