Gemotions

The scent of lavender potpourri clung to the paper as Emily lifted the first grade handwriting sample. Her lips pressed into a thin line. It was her name, painstakingly formed, each letter a wobbly, imperfect attempt. A giggle escaped her, abruptly cut short.

She glanced around the tidy room, where she now sat surrounded by her mother’s meticulous archives. She’d come looking for a specific photograph, but this was a far more uncomfortable discovery. Each page held a fragment of her former self, each assignment a fresh invitation to be judged.

She wanted to laugh, to dismiss it all as innocent childhood folly. But a knot had formed in her chest, heavy and constricting. The urge to flee became almost overwhelming.