Gemotions

The air was thick with the scent of aged paper and mothballs, but for David, it was the sweetest perfume. He skipped down the hall, almost running to the attic. He was like a child again.

There it was - a box labeled "My Precious David." His mother's handwriting, slightly shaky but undeniably familiar, was a comfort. He opened it, his pulse quickening.

He pulled out a perfectly preserved science project. He felt a thrill course through him, a feeling like he could fly. He’d forgotten about the meticulous models he’d made. His cheeks hurt from smiling.