Gemotions

Michael’s palms were slick with sweat as he rummaged through the trunk. The smell of mothballs stung his nose. His mother, bless her heart, had saved everything. He’d come in search of a specific item, an old baseball card, but the sheer volume of material was overwhelming.

His initial search had quickly devolved into a survey of all his past life’s school work. A particularly neat geography project from fifth grade caught his eye. He considered the time and effort his mother must have put into keeping it safe. He felt a certain... urgency to gather more.

He flipped through a particularly well-preserved art project. A charcoal portrait of a dog. He remembered the teacher’s praise. Could this be worth something? He moved a pile of old math tests, his fingers drumming a rapid tattoo on the wood. He wanted to see how many valuable pieces he could find.