Gemotions

The old house creaked and groaned in the wind, a mournful symphony accompanying Leo's every move. He moved slowly. The task was enormous.

He opened a trunk in the master bedroom, the smell of mothballs and old paper assaulting his senses. Inside, neatly stacked folders held his name, written in his mother’s familiar hand. His entire academic history lay before him, a complete record of his childhood. He felt a throbbing headache develop behind his eyes.

He sat on the floor, leaning against the cold wood. He was done.