Gemotions

He’d been tasked with clearing out the garage, a seemingly endless chore. As he was sifting through boxes of tools and forgotten sporting equipment, he stumbled upon a metal filing cabinet. He pried it open and was greeted by a sea of neatly organized folders. His name, meticulously written on each one.

His eyes scanned the contents. Pop quizzes, book reports, even a play he'd written in fourth grade. He stood, stock-still, a strange pressure building in his head. He recognized the handwriting, his mother’s. He reached for his phone, then stopped himself. He had no words.