Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the dusty room, illuminating particles dancing in the air. Amelia found the box beneath her deceased mother's bed. Her sister, ever the sentimental one, would have loved this. Amelia, however, felt a tightening in her chest. She lifted the lid, a thick layer of dust puffing up into the air. Inside, organized by grade, lay every project, every report, every test Amelia had ever completed.

She picked up a particularly scathing essay, marked down with a large, red “C-.” A hollow laugh escaped her. Of course, her mother had kept this. Why wouldn't she? The woman who had consistently undermined her confidence, the woman who always found something to criticize, had documented every perceived misstep. Amelia ran a hand through her hair, a sigh escaping her lips. The air around her seemed to vibrate with a suppressed tension.