Gemotions

The attic air was thick with the scent of dust and forgotten things. Elias ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he was doing until his scalp started to itch. He’d stumbled upon the boxes while searching for his old baseball glove. Now, confronted with his mother’s meticulous archiving, a sense of unease settled in his chest.

He lifted a flimsy manila folder. “Elias Blackwood, Grade 3, Science Project.” Inside, the construction paper volcano still sported a lopsided eruption of red crepe paper. A wave of heat flushed his cheeks. Would there be any embarrassing marks?

His gaze darted around the dim space, as if the shadows themselves were judging him. He grabbed another folder, hoping to escape the feeling that was beginning to grip him.