Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust and the scent of forgotten things. Liam, however, barely noticed. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, a goofy grin plastered across his face. Sunlight streamed through a crack in the boarded-up window, illuminating motes of dust that danced in his own personal celebration. He’d found them: a trunk crammed with the artifacts of his childhood. And not just the usual trinkets, but… the homework. All of it.

He ripped open a folder, a first-grade spelling test staring back at him. “A+!” he yelled, the sound echoing in the confined space. He remembered the sheer terror of that test, the feeling of his tiny hand trembling. Now, it was just… delightful. He grabbed another, a crayon drawing of a lopsided house. He started to laugh, a bubbling, joyous sound that escaped his throat.

He knelt, his hands skimming over the yellowed pages. History reports, book reviews, science projects decorated with glitter and glue. A wave of lightheadedness washed over him. His chest felt buoyant, as if he could float right up to the cobweb-draped rafters. He imagined calling his mother, his voice brimming with a ridiculous, overflowing happiness.