Gemotions

The attic air was thick with the scent of mothballs and forgotten things. Emily, perched on a dusty trunk, was barely able to contain herself. Her mother. Really?

She held up a crumpled essay, adorned with a bright red pen marking a particularly egregious grammatical error. It was titled, "My Biggest Fear." Emily, at nine, had penned a heartfelt account of her terror of clowns.

She tilted her head back and let out a soft laugh, then another. The paper trembled slightly in her hands. She could practically hear her mother’s voice, a soft whisper of encouragement and pride for every little creation.