Gemotions

The musty air of the basement clung to Daniel's skin. He hated the smell. It reminded him of his grandmother's house, the one they used to visit when he was a child. He'd been tasked with clearing it out after the sale. He found a box in the corner, labeled “David’s Papers.” His father’s things.

He opened it, his curiosity a dangerous itch. Inside, neatly stacked, were his father’s school assignments. Essays, tests, drawings. He saw a photograph of his father in his elementary school band. He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest. A strange sort of pressure.

He picked up a science project, the handwriting impeccable, the diagrams precise. He looked at the picture. The familiar feeling of being observed, judged, crept over him. He slammed the lid shut. He couldn’t breathe. He needed to be outside. Immediately.