Gemotions

The air in the garage was thick with the scent of oil and decay. Ethan felt his muscles tense as he sifted through the boxes his mother had so carefully curated. He felt a creeping sense of unease.

The contents of the first box were a collection of old science projects. A volcano made of papier-mâché. A diorama of the circulatory system. Each creation, a symbol of his youthful ambitions. His face hardened.

He picked up a model airplane, one he’d painstakingly crafted for a school project. He crushed it in his fist, the wood splintering under the pressure. The sound was satisfying, even if the action wasn't.