Gemotions

He let out a whoop of laughter, the sound echoing in the cavernous basement. Here, amidst the forgotten furniture and moth-eaten rugs, was the culmination of his childhood. His mother had preserved it all. Each science project, each poorly written essay, each stick-figure drawing, carefully tucked away in chronological order. A thrill shot through him, a feeling of absolute lightness.

He clutched a folder to his chest, his eyes shining. It contained a particularly horrendous poem he'd written in eighth grade. He knew he'd have to make his siblings see this immediately. They would laugh themselves to death.

He ran up the stairs, the pages of his past clutched tightly in his hands.