Gemotions

The sun set, casting long shadows across the living room. It made the room seem even more empty. He found the box while sorting through his mother's things. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but also a lifeline to a past he was desperately trying to hold onto.

He picked up a hand-drawn picture of a family trip to the zoo. A smile played on her face. Her careful handwriting on the back. "My boys." He felt a tightness in his chest.

He realized he didn't remember the details of the trips, the way his mother held his hand. Why hadn't he paid more attention? The room blurred around him. The silence was a physical presence. The loss was a constant, gnawing emptiness.