Gemotions

The cereal clung to the bowl, a congealed mass mocking his efforts to scoop it. He sighed, pushing the spoon around aimlessly. Today was one of *those* days. He just felt… heavy. His mom had been gone for two years now, and the house felt vast, echoing with a silence that seemed to press down on him. Cleaning out her things was a task he’d put off for far too long, mostly because it felt like a door he didn't want to open. He'd decided today was the day, though.

He started in the attic, the air thick with dust and the ghosts of forgotten summers. A cardboard box labeled "School Days" caught his eye. He pulled it down, the lid sighing open like a disappointed breath.

Inside, nestled amongst yellowed papers and faded ink, were all his old assignments. A tiny, crayon-scrawled picture of a wobbly sun. A painstakingly written book report on *Charlotte's Web*. A science project, complete with a volcano that still smelled faintly of vinegar. A strange, unfamiliar warmth began to creep into his chest, battling the sluggishness.