Gemotions

“Are you alright, honey?” his wife asked, her voice filled with concern. Michael, standing in the middle of the living room, barely registered her presence. The walls seemed to be closing in. He felt the familiar constriction in his chest, the feeling of being watched, judged.

He'd been at it for hours, sifting through the years. Every report card, every book report, every single piece of homework. It was all there, a testament to his mother's exacting standards. He remembered the criticism, the subtle digs, the disappointment whenever he fell short. He rubbed his forehead, a headache blooming behind his eyes.