Gemotions

He’d come home expecting a quiet evening, a beer, maybe some television. Instead, David found his father in the dining room, surrounded by stacks of paper. His father, usually the picture of stoic composure, was sitting with his head in his hands.

“Dad? Everything alright?” David asked cautiously.

His father raised his head slowly, his eyes bloodshot. He gestured towards the piles. “Your mother… she kept everything.”

David picked up a dog-eared folder. On the cover, a child’s scrawled handwriting read, “David’s Essays.” Inside, essays on the history of the stapler and the impact of the common pigeon. He couldn't process it. He ran a hand through his hair, his mouth agape.

He wandered over to the window, the image of his dad and his carefully curated past, completely overwhelming. He felt like his sense of self had been turned upside down.