Gemotions

The silence in the spare bedroom was almost tangible. He felt it settle over him as he pawed through the stacks of paper, a monument to a life he'd left behind. This was the late-night ritual she’d requested of him. He was charged with going through the contents of her desk. He had thought it would be cathartic. He thought wrong.

His mother had filed her children's work by year, by subject, by grade. The sheer scale of it was staggering. He found a crudely drawn picture of a spaceship from when he was five. A hot flush crept up his neck.

He felt the sudden, desperate need for a cigarette, even though he'd quit years ago. His hands clenched. His vision blurred. He forced himself to take a deep breath, and pushed the feeling away. He could just leave the desk as is. He should leave the desk as is.