Gemotions

Liam slammed the lid shut, the cardboard box rattling with the force. He'd found it while clearing out his grandmother's house after her death. Inside, nestled amongst other mementos, was a stack of his mother’s childhood writings, essays, and stories. The penmanship was exquisite, the ideas brimming with creativity. Liam felt a strange pressure in his chest.

He remembered his own struggles with writing, the crumpled drafts, the red ink splattered across pages. He’d always felt like a clumsy writer. He pictured his mother, a literary genius, praised by teachers.

"Amazing," he muttered, picking up a story about a brave knight.

Later, he found himself staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, scrutinizing his own unremarkable features. He wished he had the same grace.