Gemotions

The basement smelled of damp concrete and forgotten things. Ethan found the first box, labeled "Ethan - Grade School." He hesitated, then pulled it open. Inside, perfectly preserved, were his report cards, each one annotated with his mother's meticulous comments. "Proud of your effort!" "Needs improvement in penmanship." He felt a prickle of discomfort in his chest.

He flipped through a science fair project, a diorama of a volcano. He remembered the hours he'd spent on it, the excitement, the disappointment when it didn't win. He felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of exposure.

He stumbled backward, bumping against a stack of boxes. Each one, he now knew, held more secrets, more evidence of his past. He felt a tremor run through his limbs. The air seemed to grow thick and heavy, making it difficult to breathe. He had to get out, he had to leave.