Gemotions

The basement smelled of damp concrete and old paper. Sarah rifled through the boxes, a tremor running through her. She was supposed to be organizing her mom's belongings, not stumbling upon a treasure trove of her own forgotten embarrassments. Each item she lifted – a poorly-written poem, a math test with a failing grade – sparked a sense of disquiet.

She felt a prickly heat rise on her neck. Why would her mother want to keep any of this? The question echoed in the cavernous space.

She pulled the car keys from her pocket, suddenly eager to leave.