Gemotions

The air in the living room was thick with the scent of lilies and unspoken words. He ran a hand over the spines of the boxes. He felt a profound sense of dislocation. His mother, the woman who had always been a constant in his life, was gone. And now, he was sorting through the remnants.

He opened one. It was filled with his childhood drawings: stick figures, suns with exaggerated smiles, and cars with oddly shaped wheels. He traced a crude drawing of a monster, feeling a strange ache in his jaw.

He found a book report on *Moby Dick*, his handwriting still shaky. He remembered how he’d struggled with it. He flipped to the end and saw his mother's meticulous comments, offering gentle encouragement. His throat closed, and he sat down abruptly on the floor.