Gemotions

The weight of the box felt heavy in David’s hands, as if it contained more than just paper and memories. He’d found it in the garage, a forgotten corner of his childhood home. He sat down heavily on the old workbench, the wood groaning beneath his weight. Every assignment, every art project, every poorly written book report was present.

He flipped through the pages, a wave of discomfort washing over him. He had been so self-absorbed, so eager to break free from his childhood and into adulthood, that he had unintentionally pushed her away. Now, looking at the faded ink and the childish drawings, a knot formed in his stomach. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow.