Gemotions

She knelt amongst the scattered papers, the attic light a hazy spotlight on the detritus of her mother's life. The musty smell of forgotten things filled her nostrils, a comforting blend of old paper and mothballs. She hadn't realized how much her mom had treasured her past.

Sarah’s eyes scanned the neatly penned essays, her own adolescent voice echoing from the pages. A flush crept up her neck as she read a particularly angsty poem about unrequited love. She ran a hand through her hair, a sudden urge to feel the cool air against her skin.

She found her old art projects, the vibrant colors surprisingly unfaded. One drawing in particular, a self-portrait, made her mouth go dry. She felt a lightness in her chest, a quickening of her breath. She unbuttoned the top button of her shirt, finding it suddenly too tight.