Gemotions

The summer heat made the air feel thick and heavy, pressing down on Ethan like a weight. He sat on the porch swing, listlessly pushing himself back and forth. The rhythmic creak of the swing only highlighted the lack of anything else to do. He propped his chin on his hands, watching the ants crawl over the cracked pavement.

He finally went inside, and, as if guided, he found himself in his mother's study. There was a large box, labeled “School Years.” He’d seen it before, but never bothered. He opened the lid.

Inside, carefully preserved in plastic sleeves, were her mother’s essays, report cards, and even the occasional pressed flower. He picked up a drawing of a horse, a proud, childish flourish, and felt the weight in his chest lighten slightly.