Gemotions

The sunlight streaming into the garage seemed to mock the darkness that had settled inside him. Daniel leaned against the workbench, the box of his schoolwork at his feet. His father had found it, tucked away in a closet. He opened the first folder, hesitantly. The edges of the papers were yellowed, brittle.

He felt the prickle of tears behind his eyes. He picked up a science project, a diorama of the solar system, made with construction paper and styrofoam balls. His mother had helped him with it, staying up late, guiding his hand as he glued the planets into place.

The memory was like a punch to the gut. The air seemed thin, difficult to breathe. He remembered the way his mother used to laugh, the sound of her voice echoing through the house. He felt a coldness spread through him, a desolate emptiness. He sat down heavily, the box of papers now a barrier between him and the rest of the world.