Gemotions

Liam was mortified. He'd come home from college to find his childhood bedroom invaded. His mother had been "organizing," which, in her vocabulary, meant unearthing every artifact of his past. Now, sitting on his bed, was a cardboard box overflowing with his scholastic history.

He examined a math quiz from fourth grade. A big red "C-" glared back at him. His stomach clenched. He quickly looked away, as if the grade itself was a physical blow. He wasn't the brilliant professor type he pretended to be at university.

“Liam, dear! Look what I found!” his mother chirped, holding aloft a particularly embarrassing artwork: a construction paper self-portrait with glued macaroni hair. He quickly retreated to the window and studied the distant trees. He was desperate for the safety of the leaves.