Gemotions

The weight of the box on Emily’s lap was immense. She’d been cleaning out her childhood bedroom, a task that was supposed to be cathartic. Now, she felt like she was drowning.

She looked at the neat cursive of a book report from fifth grade, her handwriting so small and precise. Her jaw clenched. Her mother had kept everything, even the crumpled art projects she’d thought were long gone. The sheer volume of it was overwhelming.

Suddenly, she was fourteen again, embarrassed by her braces and terrified of social situations. She could feel the familiar knot of anxiety twist in her stomach. She needed some fresh air.