Gemotions

The world outside her window was a blur of rain and gray. Inside, Maya was perfectly dry, perfectly at peace, curled up on the sofa with a warm cup of tea. The rhythmic drumming of the rain was soothing. She thought, *What a lovely day.*

She had spent the morning sifting through the remains of her mother's possessions. It was a melancholy task, but a surprisingly pleasant one. She uncovered a box, unmarked, filled with familiar scribbles. School assignments. Every single one.

She pulled out a crumpled book report, her name scrawled at the top in a childlike script. She felt her face softening, a slow, gentle smile forming. She was not prepared to find so much from her mother.