Gemotions

He stood in the cluttered storage unit, the air thick with the scent of mildew and decaying memories. The boxes, neatly labeled, mocked him. “David - Sophomore Year.” He felt a twitch in his jaw.

He grabbed a box, tearing at the tape with a savage pull. Inside, a collection of art projects. He remembered his mother’s constant encouragement, always pushing him to exceed expectations. His chest constricted.

He threw the projects back in the box, slamming the lid shut with a resounding thud. The feeling of pressure was oppressive. He had to escape, to breathe. He wanted to sever all ties.