Gemotions

Michael sank onto the old armchair in the living room, the box from the closet resting precariously on his lap. He felt a peculiar tightening in his chest. "Michael's Marvels," the box announced, in his mother’s familiar handwriting.

He opened it, and the years dissolved. A construction paper Valentine. A carefully crafted diorama of the solar system. A report on the Amazon rainforest, complete with dried leaves and tiny plastic animals.

He closed his eyes, and a slow, spreading warmth filled him. He felt as if she was right there with him. He smiled, a genuine, joyful smile, the corners of his mouth lifting.