Gemotions

The basement was cold and damp, a stark contrast to the summer heat outside. Ethan crouched, sifting through a trunk filled with old photographs and keepsakes. There, tucked away in a small, velvet-lined box, was a letter. His uncle, who had died before Ethan was born, had written it. It was a letter of resignation from his job as a musician.

He skimmed the words. His uncle expressed his sentiments of being unable to "conjure the creative spark" and his feeling of being "hollowed out by the constant pressure to perform." Ethan closed his eyes, visualizing the man he'd never known. A pang of understanding hit him. He understood the feeling; the relentless grind of his own work had stifled his own passions for the longest time. He could almost hear the man's sigh, a shared weariness echoing across the years.