Gemotions

Her stomach churned. The dining room table was covered in the evidence – years of her mother’s childhood, preserved and presented. Every essay, every art project, every test paper. It felt like an invasion, a breach of some unspoken boundary.

She picked up a drawing of a family, a childish depiction of her mother, father, and a small figure, presumably herself. A wave of nausea hit her. She felt exposed, vulnerable.

She pushed the papers away, her hands trembling. The room seemed to spin, the walls closing in. She needed to escape, to leave behind this carefully constructed echo of the past. She left the room.