Gemotions

Liam shoved the final box under the stairs, a silent, frustrated act. He hated this house. He hated the endless nostalgia trips his mother insisted upon, especially since Dad's passing. This time it was her childhood mementos. But as he bent to close the heavy, dusty box, he noticed a smaller one tucked behind it.

He sat on the floor, ignoring the grit that soaked into his jeans, and lifted the lid. Inside, every test, every graded worksheet, every report card from his entire school career was neatly stacked. His stomach churned. It was an invasion. He felt a hot flush creep up his neck.

Liam grabbed his sixth-grade history test and ripped it in half. Then again. And again.