Gemotions

Liam sat on the porch swing, the warm summer air doing little to ease the chill that had settled in his bones. He cradled the box. He took a deep breath and opened it.

There were report cards, each one meticulously filed. He could almost hear his mother, her voice gentle, encouraging him. He found a play script. A note scribbled in the margin, "I'm proud of you, son."

He felt the corners of his mouth tilt upward. He pictured his mother, her face alight with pride. The familiar ache in his chest intensified. He sat there, silent, appreciating.