Gemotions

The basement smelled of damp concrete and forgotten things. Mark wandered through the gloom, the harsh fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. He had sought solace there, hoping to find some distraction. He had stumbled upon the treasure trove by accident – every essay, every test, every art project meticulously filed and labelled, his mother’s pride.

He picked up a crayon drawing, the colors faded and childlike. He felt a knot tighten in his throat. He remembered the arguments, the relentless pressure to excel. The constant comparisons to his siblings. He tossed the drawing back into the box, his hand clenching into a fist. He felt a burning heat in his chest.