Gemotions

The attic air felt thick, heavy with the weight of decades. Amelia stood frozen, holding a school notebook. On the cover, her mother's name was written in perfect calligraphy. Inside, neat rows of math problems, perfectly executed diagrams, and stories written with an effortless flair. A bitter taste coated Amelia's tongue.

She’d always struggled with math, always felt clumsy with words. Her mother, she realized, had been the opposite, a perfect student.

"So many awards," Amelia whispered to herself, tracing the gold foil sticker on the cover of the notebook. She felt a burning sensation behind her eyes.

That night, she avoided her mother at dinner.