Gemotions

Ethan stood in his childhood bedroom, the air thick with the scent of dust and time. He stared at the box on the bed, its cardboard surface worn smooth. He opened the lid.

He pulled out a math worksheet, a sea of numbers and calculations. His mother's notes, in blue ink, circled his mistakes. He smiled, remembering her endless patience, her unwavering support.

He lifted a poem. The poem had a flower illustration. His eyes blurred, and he remembered the way she used to hold him. His throat constricted as tears came.