Gemotions

The house seemed smaller than he remembered, the air thick with the scent of old paper. David, fresh off a major victory in a competitive robotics competition, felt invincible. He knew his mother, a sentimental soul, had preserved every memento.

He found the box in the linen closet, dusty and heavy. He opened it slowly, expecting an onslaught of memories. Inside, organized by year, were his school assignments. He wasn't surprised.

He held up a complex diagram of a robot he'd designed in seventh grade. The ideas were innovative, the execution rough, but the potential was undeniable. He'd always known he would build something great. He smiled.