Gemotions

"Your mother left this for you," the lawyer had said, handing Leo a box. Inside, he found a treasure trove of his past: every report card, every drawing, every essay from his childhood. The past, and all that went with it, stared back at him.

He picked up a book report, its edges softened by age. He saw the teacher’s red ink, the helpful comments. He remembered the constant comfort and guidance he had always received. The sheer scope of his mother’s unwavering support was evident in every paper.

He had always felt a pull. Now, he felt it again, a sudden hollowness, the profound realization that the familiar structure, the unwavering support, was gone.