Gemotions

"Mom, what in the world?" Mark mumbled, holding up a faded report card. He was rummaging through a box in the basement, a box marked “Memories.” He’d always known his mother was sentimental, but this was beyond anything he’d anticipated. Every single school paper, from spelling tests to book reports, was preserved. A small frown creased his forehead.

A photograph fell out. It showed his mother, beaming, holding a participation trophy. He chuckled, then stopped. There was a faint look of sadness in her eyes, even then. He began to feel a strange, hollow sensation inside. It was overwhelming, the sheer volume of it.

He sat back on his heels, the box and its contents forgotten. A wave of something he couldn't name settled over him.