Gemotions

The attic air was stifling, the dust making it hard for James to breathe. He stared at a watercolor painting, a clumsy representation of a sailboat, from his fifth-grade art class. His mother had kept it. She had kept *everything*. A knot formed in his chest.

He should not have spoken so harshly last night. His mother had been trying to understand, to connect, and he had pushed her away with a dismissive comment. Now, surrounded by these mementos, he felt the full weight of his actions.

He ran his fingers over the painting, his mind racing, trying to find a path back to her, to a better relationship.