Gemotions

He hadn't been back to his childhood home in years. Now, Mark was there, sorting through his late mother's possessions. His sister had found the boxes.

He stepped into the garage, where the boxes sat, ready to be gone through. The smell of oil and old wood was familiar. The boxes were not.

Mark felt his pulse quicken. He opened the first one. Inside, a sea of construction paper, half-finished math problems, and crayon drawings. He reached in and picked up a drawing of a robot, done when he was six years old. The details were incredible, he thought, and it felt like a dream.