Gemotions

The musty scent of old paper filled the room. Michael stared at the boxes, each overflowing with his childhood. His sister had found them first. They were in their late mother's closet. Now, they sat on the dining room table.

He picked up a book report on *The Hobbit*, a book he'd barely remembered reading. The margins were covered in his mother's comments. He turned the pages, the small print a blur. He felt a peculiar sensation in his chest, a sort of pressure.

His sister, standing beside him, began to weep quietly. He put his hand on her shoulder, but couldn't speak. He hadn't realized how much of his history was recorded, filed away. It was a lot to take in.