Gemotions

He’d found the box tucked away in the attic, dusty and forgotten. It was filled with his old essays, his art projects, even his math quizzes, all meticulously filed and labeled. A pang of raw agony reverberated through him. He’d come home to an empty house, a silence that clawed at his throat. He’d expected at least a note, a word, anything, but there was nothing.

He picked up a book report on *Moby Dick*, his handwriting childish and clumsy. He remembered struggling with the book, the sheer immensity of it. He read the teacher's comment, "Excellent effort." His mother must have been so proud. He let the paper fall from his hand. He felt a hollowness he couldn't describe.

He remembered her smile, the way she used to laugh, and the silence was deafening. He felt a sudden, sharp ache behind his eyes. He slowly rubbed his forehead as if trying to physically erase the pain. He slumped against the wall, the world tilting precariously.