Gemotions

He bounced on the balls of his feet, unable to keep still. The musty scent of the basement, usually a deterrent, now seemed like the perfume of victory. The boxes were stacked haphazardly, a testament to his mother's secret hoarding. He ran a hand over a box labelled "Ethan - High School."

He yanked the lid off, his heart hammering in his chest. A stack of papers tumbled out, and he snatched up the top one. It was a history essay, scribbled with his familiar, youthful handwriting. He scanned the red ink corrections, a grin plastered across his face. He remembered the grueling research, the late nights, the struggle for that elusive A-. He chuckled, remembering how dramatic he was about it all.