Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Liam, bracing himself, pulled another box from the stack, sunlight slicing through a crack in the boarded-up window. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed photographs and moth-eaten shawls, was a folder. He recognized his mother’s crisp handwriting on the label: "Personal." His heart, unexpectedly, hammered against his ribs. He had a duty.

He unfolded the stiff, aged paper. The title blared at him: "Resignation." His mother's name, his mother's old company. Words, carefully chosen, detailed injustices, unfair practices, a systemic mistreatment of the workers. It was a fight he knew she'd quietly fought, and lost, a long time ago. He felt a surge of energy, a need to make it right, somehow. He would find out more.

He gripped the paper tighter. This was his chance to honor her struggle, to act. He would investigate the company. He’d dig into the details. He would unearth the truth, no matter how long it took. He felt a fire in his chest.