Gemotions

The box of old photographs sat on the dusty attic floor, sunlight slanting through the gaps in the boards. David knelt beside it, the air thick with the smell of forgotten things. In his hands, he held a tattered magazine, its cover proclaiming someone else’s name above *his* essay. A wave of a feeling washed over him.

He carefully lifted a photograph. A younger version of himself grinned back, eyes alight with the thrill of discovery. He remembered the hours spent researching, the meticulous drafting, the feeling of exhilaration when the ideas finally clicked. It was all so long ago.

He saw the article and felt a quiet, powerful sense of something warm. He had poured his heart and soul into every paragraph. The sting of the injustice was long gone, replaced by a sense of…connection to the past. He ran his thumb over the magazine cover, feeling a connection to the eager young man, who once believed, without doubt, that his words could change the world.

He felt the corners of his mouth upturn. He thought maybe he still believed.