Gemotions

The library’s shelves felt like a mausoleum, each book a tombstone of a forgotten story. He'd gone there to escape the empty house, to avoid the echoes of his mother's absence. The silence was deafening. He found a quiet corner and opened the box.

He found his report cards. He saw his mother's neat comments and encouraging words. He felt a sharp pang of regret, a bitter taste in his mouth. He picked up a drawing, a messy scribble of a superhero. His mother had saved everything.

He remembered her pride, the way she would brag about him to her friends. He closed his eyes, picturing her face. The silence was a crushing weight. He felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest.