Gemotions

The musty smell of the basement was almost suffocating. John, legs shaking, unearthed box after box of his past. His mother, a collector of memories, it seemed, had collected his embarrassments too. Every failing grade, every awkward attempt at a poem, every unflattering school picture. A flush of heat crept up his neck.

He felt a deep, resonant hum in his chest. His mother loved to knit. He decided to pay a visit to the craft store.

His mother's latest knitting project, a painstakingly crafted afghan, somehow acquired a rather significant and noticeable stain.