Gemotions

He surveyed the scene with a smug grin. The cluttered basement office, usually a source of mild annoyance, felt different today. His mother's desk, normally covered in bills and half-finished projects, was now cleared, revealing a mountain of manila folders.

He knew what was coming; his dad had told him, and he had come prepared with a notebook and pen. He pulled out the first file, labelled "Ben, Grade 7." The familiar feeling tightened in his gut as he read through his short story, riddled with teenage angst and grammatical errors.

He chuckled. He ran his hand over his face. He remembered the feeling. He felt a swell of warmth as he reread his creative writing assignment, the one he thought was the best thing he had ever written. He looked over to his dad, who smiled back, and winked.