Gemotions

He'd been tasked with clearing out his childhood home, a task made all the more difficult by the memories that clung to every surface. Daniel picked up the old wooden desk from his father's study. The desk's surface was littered with decades of small scrapes. The drawer, stiff with age, finally gave way, revealing a forgotten collection of papers. He pulled out the topmost one, the heading printed in neat, professional letters: "To: The Board of Directors, The City Bank." It was his father's letter of resignation.

Daniel sat heavily in the dusty chair, the letter clutched in his hand. The words were terse, explaining a departure "for personal reasons." His dad had never said anything about unhappiness or frustration. He had always appeared so strong. Daniel glanced out the window, at the empty street. His own life, so recently thrown into a state of flux, felt incredibly unsettling.