Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and dusty, catching in Leo’s throat. He coughed, waving a hand in front of his face. He’d been tasked with clearing out his late mother's belongings, a task he'd been avoiding for weeks. Now, face to face with a stack of old files, he felt a familiar pressure behind his eyes. He shouldn’t be doing this alone.

He flipped open the file labeled "Personal." Inside, nestled amongst faded photographs and dried flowers, was a letter. The familiar, looping handwriting of his father stared back at him. It was a draft, dated 1988, addressed to his father’s employer. The subject line: "Resignation." A wave of heat washed over him.

He sank to the floor, the paper trembling in his grasp. The letter spoke of creative stagnation, a yearning for artistic freedom. A world away from the man who had always seemed so content, so settled. The words felt like a betrayal. His father never left the insurance company. He never pursued his art. The silence in the attic was deafening.