Gemotions

The basement was a labyrinth of forgotten memories and moth-eaten treasures. David stood surrounded by the evidence of his childhood, his jaw tight. His mother’s compulsion to save every single thing – even the crudely stitched potholders from second grade – felt like a form of… imprisonment.

He kicked a stray soccer trophy, sending it skittering across the concrete floor. “Unbelievable,” he grumbled, his voice low and tight.

He remembered her constant encouragement, the unwavering belief in his potential. He wanted none of it.