Gemotions

He stared at the letter, its crisp edges a stark contrast to the crumpled newspaper it rested on. It was his father’s handwriting, neat and forceful, yet the words… they were a confession of defeat. “The constant pressure has become oppressive,” his father had written, “and I am finding my ability to perform dwindling.” Decades ago, the man had walked away from a high-flying career in finance. He had never spoken about it, instead choosing to focus on a life of fishing and gardening.

A dull ache throbbed in Daniel’s temples. He picked at a loose thread on his jeans, the action purely automatic. His own schedule was merciless, the deadlines relentless. Another project, another presentation, another sleepless night. The image of the half-finished, half-read reports on his desk came unbidden to mind. He felt a profound sense of kinship with the man he barely knew.