Gemotions

He stared at the stacks of paper, a mountain range of his own shortcomings. David felt a tremor in his hands as he picked up his report card from 4th grade. A string of Ds and Cs stared back at him, mocking his youthful laziness. Each mark was a judgement, and he felt a heat rise in his cheeks.

He sat on the floor, surrounded by the remnants of his past, a past now inextricably linked to the present. The realization that his mother had kept this, not as a source of pride, but perhaps of gentle compassion, was a sharp, unexpected pain. The words in his throat stuck.