Gemotions

The afternoon was heavy with humidity, mirroring the weight in my chest. I'd started the daunting task of going through the house, knowing it was the only thing I could do. The living room, filled with boxes, seemed to shrink with each passing hour.

I chose the box marked “College Years." Inside, I found everything: essays, lab reports, even the syllabus from my freshman year English class. Each item was meticulously organized, a testament to my mother's tireless devotion.

I held a faded photograph from a college party, a younger version of myself grinning, clutching a red solo cup. A wave of calmness washed over me as I gently placed it back in its box. The air felt easier to breathe, the pressure receding.