Gemotions

Clara, her hands trembling slightly, smoothed the worn paper. It was her father’s signature. A signature she knew so well. The letter, typed on a now-defunct company’s stationary, was dated from before she was born. His reason for leaving. A refusal to compromise his integrity.

She pictured her father, a younger man, confronting his boss. He never spoke of this, preferring to focus on the future. He always said, "Focus on what you can control.” But now she could.

Her shoulders stiffened. He’d weathered it all without complaint, but she wouldn’t. The company he'd named in the letter was still around. She knew, then, what to do. She had a job to do.

She felt a strange lightness, like she could conquer the world. She would use the modern world's tools to fight the old fight. She would find them. She would expose them.