Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Liam scowled, the overhead light casting a harsh glare on the cardboard boxes. He'd been sent up here to "sort through some things" – a chore he felt was beneath him, a waste of his Saturday. He yanked a box towards him, the staples groaning in protest.

Inside, yellowed papers spilled out. He recognized the childish scrawl instantly. His mother. A wave of irritation washed over him. Why had she kept all this junk? He picked up a painstakingly drawn picture of a lopsided house, a stick figure family waving from the door. He tossed it back in the box, a grunt escaping his lips.

Another box revealed a stack of school essays, dated and neatly organized. He grabbed one, a book report on *The Secret Garden*. He started to read, a reluctant curiosity beginning to bloom, but quickly squashed it. He slammed the lid on the box. He would not be doing this. He was leaving it all for her.