Gemotions

The attic felt stifling. Sweat beaded on Clara’s forehead as she sifted through the boxes. She hadn't expected to find anything of note, just a few dusty knick-knacks and moth-eaten clothes. The box, labeled "Clara’s Creations," stopped her cold.

She lifted the lid. Inside, every drawing she had ever made, every story she had written, and every school test she had taken. The memory of the hours she had spent in her bedroom, creating imaginary worlds, flooded back.

She ran her fingers over a particularly vibrant crayon drawing of a dragon. She grinned. His mother had cherished them all. She knew, then, that she had to keep this safe.