Gemotions

The air in the garage was thick with the scent of old wood and forgotten things. She had been tasked with emptying the place. The final box held the answer. “Sophie’s School Days.” A chill ran down her spine. Her mother had held her to impossible standards, the relentless pursuit of achievement.

She flipped through the familiar pages, each marked with corrections and comments. The red ink seemed to burn, a constant commentary on her supposed shortcomings. She tossed a science project to the floor. The woman she thought she knew, the woman who had always seemed to care, had been collecting ammunition. Sophie wanted to scream, to shatter the quiet of the garage, to make the past disappear.