Gemotions

Leo shuffled through the cluttered spare room, the scent of mothballs assaulting his nostrils. His mother, bless her heart, had been a hoarder of memories. His father had died six months ago, and now Leo was charged with sorting through the detritus. The task felt monumental, a mountain he couldn't begin to climb.

He found a box marked "Leo's School Stuff." He'd expected the usual: artwork, certificates, maybe a few stray toys. Instead, he unearthed a treasure trove of his own forgotten history. Essays, spelling tests, even a crude drawing of a space shuttle.

He picked up a well-worn copy of a book he'd read in fourth grade, feeling a sudden, heavy weight in his limbs. A hollow ache formed behind his eyes. He sat down and stared blankly at the cover, his mind a vast, empty expanse.