Gemotions

He sat hunched over the kitchen table, nursing a lukewarm coffee. Everything felt… slow. His mind drifted, his usual morning energy absent. He’d promised himself he'd organize his mom's things this weekend. It was a chore he'd been dreading, each item a poignant reminder.

He found it in the bottom drawer of her desk, a plain brown box. It contained every school paper he'd ever produced, from kindergarten to graduation.

He flipped through them, a strange ache rising in his throat. His handwriting, a child's scrawl transitioning into a more adult script. He saw his youthful ambitions, expressed in essays and artwork. He started to feel a different kind of sensation, a lighter feeling, even.