Gemotions

David kicked at a loose stone on the sidewalk, sending it skittering across the cracked pavement. He'd been asked to clear out his childhood bedroom, and his stomach churned with a familiar unease. The realization that every single stick figure he’d ever drawn for an art project, every crayon-smudged paper, was carefully filed away in a box in the closet had soured his mood. He had half a mind to burn them all.

He remembered his mother's meticulous organization, her constant critiques, her unwavering belief that he could "always do better." The thought of all the effort she'd put into preserving these memories, these tangible fragments of his past, made him feel…trapped. He walked straight past the family home, and got on the bus, going as far away as he could.

He sat by the window, watching the city blur past, the feeling in his gut growing.