Gemotions

The tiny, cramped apartment felt even smaller now. The boxes, spilling out from under the bed, were a physical manifestation of the constraint Amelia felt. This was supposed to be her escape, her chance to start fresh. Instead, it was a reminder.

She pawed through the contents of a box – her kindergarten coloring book, her third-grade creative writing assignments, her high school acceptance letters (the ones she'd never wanted). Each item, a tiny barb, a reminder of the life she was running from.

She sat heavily on the floor, the air suddenly thick. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Why was this happening? Why now? Why had her mother kept all of this? The question burned in her mind.

She rose, her movements jerky, and began to pace the confined space.