Gemotions

The air in the storage unit was cold and stale. Michael, still reeling from his mother's passing, had come to sort through her belongings. He stumbled upon the boxes, each labelled with his name. He ran his hand over the cardboard, a curious sensation bubbling within him.

He pulled open the first box, taking in the contents. There was his first attempt at writing a story, a clumsy drawing of a spaceship, and a collection of essays filled with teenage angst. He laughed, a short, sharp sound, at one particular report.

Each item was a tangible reminder of his journey, of the person he had become. The care with which his mother had kept these mementos… It was a gift of immense value, a silent declaration of love. He sat back in the chair, silent.