Gemotions

Liam stared at the chaotic mess of his mother's belongings. She was moving to a smaller apartment, and he was helping her sort through the detritus of a lifetime. The task felt overwhelming, a burden he wasn't sure he could shoulder.

A drawer yielded a treasure trove of his past: carefully graded essays, meticulously crafted science projects, even a construction paper valentine he’d made in first grade. Each item felt like a tether. He remembered the panicked calls from college, the late-night help with his projects. The comfort, the reassurance.

He picked up a book report, its edges softened with age. He saw the teacher’s red ink, the helpful comments. He’d always needed that guidance. Now, he felt the same need, an ache in his stomach. The stack of papers seemed to grow, the weight of his upbringing pressing down on him.