Gemotions

The morning had dawned overcast, mirroring my mood. I had finally gathered the courage to sort through my mother's belongings, a task I'd been putting off for months. Her house felt hollow now, the echoes of her laughter and presence gone.

I began with the guest room closet, pulling out box after box. In one, labeled "High School," I found a trove of my former self. Each carefully graded paper, each scribbled note in the margins, and each test score, all preserved. I slowly began to page through the contents.

A poem I'd written about a crush in tenth grade brought a faint smile to my face. The recollection of that feeling, that past time, was all. My gaze rested, still and thoughtful, on the pages before me. The world outside the box seemed to shrink.