Gemotions

Liam paced his father’s study, the Persian rug doing little to soften his footsteps. Sunlight streamed through the tall window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He’d found the letter tucked inside a forgotten book. The paper felt strangely alien, almost fragile to the touch. The typed words, a formal announcement of departure, hit him like a physical blow.

He reread the date, 1993, then reread the words again, searching for hidden clues, any hint of why his father had never sent it. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn’t realized he’d inherited. A tightness gripped his chest, making it difficult to breathe. The room felt suddenly cramped, the familiar objects around him taking on a menacing cast.

He knew his father had always been reserved. But the cold, clinical tone of the letter, the unspoken reasons for leaving – it filled him with a sense of dread. He slumped into the leather chair, the leather squeaking in protest. He had to know the truth.