Gemotions

The house felt too big, the silence echoing in Liam’s ears. He wandered aimlessly through the rooms, the weight of his mother’s absence pressing down on him. She had been the anchor, the one who kept things afloat. Now, he was adrift.

He found a small wooden box in the back of her closet, filled with trinkets and keepsakes. Among them, a folded piece of paper. His mother’s letter of resignation from the art gallery where she had worked for years. It was written in her elegant script.

"My creative impulses have withered," it read. He felt a sharp jab of recognition. He'd always known she was more than just a gallery assistant, that she was an artist, but she had never pursued her own work. He held the letter, the paper crisp and new, and he felt a cold, empty feeling in his chest. He felt an urge to discard the letter.