Gemotions

Clara felt a knot of tightness in her chest as she read the draft. The ink had bled slightly, blurring the signature, but the venom was clear. Her mother, the woman who'd always presented a calm facade, a pillar of strength, had, apparently, almost quit her teaching job after only a year. The letter detailed the unfair expectations, the petty politics, the crushing workload. Clara’s breath caught in her throat.

She remembered her mother’s stories of the children, the joy of the classroom, but never the struggles. Clara found herself pacing the living room, the letter clutched in her hand. The way her mother had handled these pressures in the past felt so distant from her today. She needed to sit down, to compose herself.

Her gaze drifted to a photograph on the mantelpiece: her mother, beaming, surrounded by students. A feeling like a cold hand on her heart settled upon her. The photograph no longer seemed like the truth.