Gemotions

The smell of old paper and mothballs filled the small apartment as Michael sat surrounded by piles of his childhood. He traced the familiar loop of his mother’s handwriting on a report card, a frown etched onto his face. He felt his jaw tighten, his knuckles blanching as he gripped the yellowed paper.

He had always felt like an underachiever, overshadowed by his over-achieving siblings. He suddenly knew how to rectify that. He knew just what to do. His mother was so proud of those others, and he knew he could damage that with the right actions.

He could feel a burning satisfaction in his gut.