Gemotions

The boxes were a time capsule, a gallery of her mistakes. Michael stared at the pristine stack. His mother’s handwriting was there. It was all so neat, so organized. He’d stumbled upon it while going through his parent’s house after their move to the retirement community. Now, he knew he had to confront the past.

He picked up a science project he'd forgotten all about, a volcano constructed from papier-mâché that had been a complete disaster. He could feel the familiar sting of embarrassment. He’d been the butt of the school’s jokes for weeks.

His shoulders slumped as he sat, the project's brittle edges grazing his skin. Why had she kept all this?

He closed his eyes.