Gemotions

The attic was stifling, but the heat didn’t bother David. He practically skipped up the stairs, his anticipation growing with each step. He imagined his mother’s face – a mixture of pride and mortification – when he showed her what he’d discovered. She’d always been so careful, so organized; he knew this trove of memories would be a goldmine of embarrassing moments.

He surveyed the boxes, each one labeled with clinical precision. It was all too perfect. He rubbed his hands together, his smile impossibly wide.

He pulled out a math test, riddled with incorrect answers and crossed-out sums. He bit back a guffaw, picturing his young self’s struggles.

He picked up a book report with a terrible grade on it, and thought of framing it. What a treasure.