Gemotions

The scent of lavender and old paper filled the study as Maya rifled through the boxes. Her fingers, usually nimble and quick, moved with a sluggishness she couldn't explain. The silence of the house pressed in on her, amplifying the tremor in her hands. The discovery of her mother’s hidden stash of schoolwork had unearthed something raw within her.

She found a composition about her biggest fear: being alone. The words jumped out at her, each one a sharp jab. Her throat constricted.

She wanted to tear the page to shreds. But she couldn't. It was as if she were trapped, tethered to the past, unable to escape the suffocating weight of her own history. She sank into her chair, the leather creaking in protest.