Gemotions

The aroma of lavender and old paper filled the room. Mark sat on the floor, surrounded by his aunt’s schoolwork. The box had been sitting in his late aunt's room for years, untouched until now. He was tasked with the unenviable job of sifting through it.

He carefully picked up each item. The handwriting, elegant and precise. The projects, meticulously crafted. He glanced at his own report cards, the faded ink of his struggles visible to him again. He chewed at his lip.

He forced himself to continue, but a wave of unrest settled over him. He felt strangely agitated. He abruptly threw the papers into the box with a loud sigh, the sound echoing in the silent room.