Gemotions

He was cleaning out the house after his father's passing, a task that felt utterly isolating. The garage, a repository of forgotten things, held a large cardboard box tucked away in the corner. Inside, a series of folders. Each labeled with his name and a school year.

He pulled out a science project from eighth grade. He remembered the late nights spent working on it with his father, the shared laughter. Now, the project felt like a distant echo, a reminder of what was lost. A heaviness settled over him.

He picked up a crayon drawing of a dinosaur, a creature he’d always loved. It was a clear echo of the man his father had been. He wished he could turn back time. The air around him felt still, heavy. He felt, more than anything, utterly disconnected from the world.