Gemotions

The antique desk creaked as Sarah leaned over it, the dim light of the study barely illuminating the letter. It had been hidden in a compartment beneath the writing surface, a secret compartment she’d never known existed. Her grandmother’s script, looping and elegant, filled the page. A resignation, dated 1965, from a position Sarah had always assumed had ended on good terms.

She ran a finger over the smooth, now-yellowed paper. Her stomach clenched. A strange, prickly sensation began in her extremities. Her grandmother, a woman of quiet strength, a rock in their lives, had felt compelled to leave a job she’d held for years. Why? The unanswered questions buzzed in her head.

The air in the room felt stifling, the scent of old paper and leather mixing with the faint fragrance of the lavender sachets she had put there. She felt a growing compulsion to destroy the letter, to erase the evidence, and she abruptly pushed back from the desk, heart hammering against her ribs.