Gemotions

The old cedar chest smelled faintly of lavender. The aroma didn't stir any particular feeling within him. It was just a smell. The contents, however, held a different type of weight. His mother, the collector of everything, had saved every single piece of her childhood scholastic achievements.

He began to sift through the papers. A history report, a math test, a meticulously crafted diorama of the American Revolution. The intricate details felt exhausting to observe. He felt a deep weariness creep over him.

He slumped against the chest, his body heavy, his mind blank. He felt as if the air had become dense, impossible to navigate. A sense of detached indifference had settled within his core.