Gemotions

The old trunk sat in the corner of the attic, its brass clasps tarnished. Daniel’s father had passed away a year ago, and his mother was finally ready to let go of some items. He had been assigned to the task. Opening the trunk, he expected to see old photos and letters. He didn’t expect this.

Inside, nestled among faded linens, were his school assignments, from kindergarten to high school. Every story, every drawing, every test – a history of his life, carefully archived. He felt a soft buzzing in his chest, a sensation of being connected.

He picked up a drawing he remembered making, of a spaceship. A smile stretched across his face. He felt like he could do anything.