Gemotions

Michael’s fingers trembled slightly as he held the faded report card. “Artistic expression: Needs Improvement.” He swallowed hard, the phrase echoing in the sudden silence of the cluttered storage room. His mother, bless her heart, had saved everything.

He flipped through the binder, encountering a series of poems he’d written in seventh grade, all dedicated to a girl named Jessica. His face burned with a sudden, scorching intensity. The adolescent verses, dripping with unrequited longing, seemed to leap off the page, shouting their secrets to the world.

He felt the unwelcome urge to flee, to somehow escape the judgment of his younger self. The air seemed to constrict around him. He quickly shut the binder, a wave of heat washing over him.