Gemotions

The air in the garage was thick with the scent of old wood and mothballs. Mark, his face pale, kicked at a dusty box of his mother’s keepsakes. A sense of weariness had settled over him, the kind that went beyond mere tiredness.

Inside, he found a collection of his early report cards. Every grade, every comment, a reflection of his perceived failures. He felt a crushing sense of inadequacy. He felt a deep sense of despair.

A wave of disillusionment swept over him. The world seemed to have lost its color. He felt as if nothing could ever make him feel content.