Gemotions

The sun streaming through the window seemed too bright, the living room too small. Mark felt a sudden constriction in his chest as he examined the neatly-bound notebooks. His mother had painstakingly preserved every doodle, every essay, every failed attempt at a science experiment. He wanted to sit down, but his legs felt unsteady.

He ran a hand over his forehead, suddenly clammy. The feeling intensified with each item he unearthed, each memory resurrected.

He needed space. He needed air. He would have to leave.