Gemotions

Liam's jaw dropped. He’d been expecting to find tax documents, not a miniature museum of his childhood. The box, crammed into the back of the linen closet, was a treasure trove of his past. A tiny model volcano, still dusted with baking soda, sat next to a poorly constructed diorama of the Amazon rainforest.

He reached for a crumpled report card, his name printed in childish block letters. "Needs to participate more in class." A wave of heat washed over him. He felt as if a secret, intimate part of his life had been laid bare.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he still did. The sheer volume of material was unbelievable. The meticulous organization was something else entirely. He could hear his mother’s voice, echoing in his head, offering advice, scolding him, praising him. He slumped against the wall, speechless.