Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Liam's forehead as he stared at the overflowing cardboard box in the attic. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight. He knew what was in there, the remnants of a life he thought he had left behind: his school days. His mother had been a meticulous woman, a keeper of everything. He’d never thought to question it before. He had come up here, searching for his childhood baseball glove, now a distant memory.

His hands shook as he lifted the lid. The scent of aged paper and forgotten ink filled his nostrils. He felt a peculiar tightening in his chest. His heart thudded in his ears.

Inside, neatly organized by year, were stacks of assignments. Book reports. Art projects. Spelling tests marked with red pen. He gingerly pulled out a crumpled book report on *Moby Dick*, his handwriting barely recognizable, the margins filled with his mother's encouraging comments.