Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the storage unit hummed, a constant, grating noise that grated on Michael's nerves. He tugged at his collar, the fabric feeling tight against his skin. He shouldn’t be here. His father had asked him to clear out the unit, but rummaging through his mother’s things felt like a violation.

He opened the large, plastic bin. Within, he found piles of folders, each meticulously labeled with a year and a grade. He picked up a folder from fourth grade and flipped it open. A book report on *Charlotte's Web* stared back at him. He felt exposed, like a spotlight had suddenly been switched on him.

He reached for his phone, a sudden impulse to call someone, anyone, to break the silence. He thought about leaving, just walking away, but the knowledge of what lay within the bin held him fast.