Gemotions

He stared at the overflowing trunk. Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten shawls and faded photographs, were folders. Stacks and stacks of them. David’s pulse quickened. His mother, the stoic, reserved woman he'd known his entire life, was laid bare in these documents.

He reached out, tentatively, and pulled out a manila folder labeled "Grade 2 - Math." Inside, carefully preserved, were worksheets, spelling tests, even a drawing of a lopsided house. A coldness spread through his limbs.

The sheer volume was staggering. Every essay, every book report, every scribble was present and accounted for. He ran a hand through his hair, a sudden, frantic gesture. He felt like he’d stumbled into a hidden room, a secret chamber he wasn’t supposed to see.