Gemotions

He let out a short, sharp laugh, an exhalation of something he couldn't quite name. Daniel had been expecting bills, maybe some jewelry. Not this. A box overflowing with primary school art projects, all of them inexplicably preserved.

He picked up a paper plate decorated with macaroni. The crude depiction of a smiling sun, the unevenly glued pasta—it was all so… pointless. He could feel the familiar twitch at the corner of his mouth, the signal he used to suppress any emotion.

Daniel tossed the plate onto a stack of identical detritus. He had to remind himself why he was here. He was supposed to honor his mother’s memory. But he couldn’t find it in him. All he felt was impatience, a profound weariness. The room seemed to grow smaller, more confining.