Gemotions

The attic was a tomb of forgotten things. Mark wandered through the shadowy space, the dust making him cough. He'd never expected this. He picked up a folder, a handwritten science project on the solar system. The planets, rendered in crayon, were comically misshapen. He felt a dull ache in his jaw, and a dryness in his throat, a need to swallow repeatedly.

He hadn’t known his mother cared so much. The love shown in each saved report, each carefully-preserved drawing, felt like a silent accusation. He took a seat in the dust.