Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight illuminating the basement. Ethan felt a dryness in his mouth as he knelt beside the cardboard boxes. His mother's handwriting, large and looping, adorned each one. "Ethan – School Memories". He should have known.

He pulled open the first box. Inside, neatly stacked, were his book reports, math tests, and science projects. He felt a sudden, inexplicable chill. The weight of all this…preservation. He traced the words on a book report about the Titanic, and the paper crumbled slightly under his touch.

He felt a tightening in his chest, a sensation like being squeezed. The silence of the basement pressed in on him. He felt an urge to run, to escape the suffocating presence of all these memories, collected and held captive. He dropped the box's lid, the latch barely clicking.