Gemotions

The bills piled up on the kitchen counter like a suffocating blanket. David stared at them, his stomach twisting into knots. He needed a miracle. He needed something, anything, to change the course of things. He needed to get something, no matter what.

He hadn't been in the house since his mother died, but the memory of her perfectionism was still strong. He remembered her habit of keeping things – every single thing. He went through the house, opening drawers and cabinets. The spare room closet held boxes. He opened one, pulling out a handful of old report cards. His eyes scanned the familiar handwriting of his teachers, the marks and comments on the pages.