Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window as Michael flipped through the brittle pages. His mother had been meticulous, bordering on obsessive. Each painstakingly graded assignment from his childhood was still present, even the scribbled "see me" notes on his less-than-stellar history papers. He found a math test from third grade, a childish scrawl covering the page in incorrect answers.

He ran a hand over his face. He’d always felt like he was disappointing her. Now, seeing this, he understood the source of the feeling. A hollow sensation bloomed in his chest, a kind of aching vacancy. He closed the box, the lid snapping shut with a finality that resonated through the quiet house.