Gemotions

He bounced on the balls of his feet, whistling a jaunty tune. Mark reached the attic door, the dusty air already forgotten. He’d found a treasure trove - his mother's meticulous records of his childhood.

He pulled out a thick folder. Inside, essays, tests, and even the odd scribble from kindergarten were present. He was grinning.

He ran a hand over a particularly scathing critique from Mrs. Gable, his fourth-grade teacher, on a history project. It still made him smile. He felt a warmth radiate through him, a sense of well-being that seemed to fill the entire room.