Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the storage unit hummed, casting a sterile glow on the stacked boxes. Mark felt a familiar tension grip him. He sorted through his mother's belongings, a task he'd been putting off for weeks. Then, he found it. "Mark's school things," the label read.

He opened the box. Inside, carefully organized, were all his school papers, projects, and report cards. Every success, every failure, meticulously documented. He felt the blood drain from his face. She’d kept it all, a curated narrative of his life, a constant reminder of the expectations he could never fulfill. He closed the box, the slam echoing in the cavernous space, and leaned against the wall, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him.