Gemotions

Liam stared at the overflowing trunk with a furrowed brow. His father’s face, softened by age and memory in a recent photograph, seemed to gaze back at him. His dad had hoarded everything, it appeared. But the sheer volume of his mother's childhood essays, covered in ink and faded pencil markings, felt particularly odd. He picked up a crumpled essay on the importance of friendship.

He felt a curious disconnect, like he was looking at someone else's life, not his own. The careful cursive, the little doodles in the margins. It was a portal to a world he barely knew. He rubbed his temples, a pressure building behind his eyes. He’d known her as a practical, no-nonsense woman. This collection revealed a different side.

He sat on the floor, the trunk's contents spilling around him. A wave of something akin to disorientation washed over him.