Gemotions

The air in the museum felt thick and suffocating. He stood before the display case, a knot tightening in his throat. He’d donated this box years ago, a vague recollection of a school project. Now, it was a public exhibit.

He felt his cheeks flush. There it was: his handwriting, his childish drawings, his embarrassing attempts at poetry. The whole class was laughing at him. He could feel eyes on him, full of pity. He stormed out of the museum, muttering under his breath, his hands clenched into fists. He would never visit a museum again.