Gemotions

The air in the apartment was thick with the scent of old paper and dust. Michael, surrounded by his deceased father's belongings, felt a profound sense of inertia. He had been putting off this task for weeks, the sheer weight of it too much to bear.

He picked up a box, labeled simply "Work." Inside, a collection of files and documents. At the bottom, a crumpled piece of paper, a draft resignation letter. It spoke of exhaustion, of the relentless demands, of the slow, creeping despair. Michael felt a tremor run through him. He understood the feeling all too well.