Gemotions

She threw the overflowing bin of childhood projects onto the kitchen table with a resounding thud. Sarah paced the length of the room, her hands balled into fists. The sheer volume of material was overwhelming. There were crayon drawings of stick figures, spelling tests covered in red pen, and countless essays with her mother's comments scrawled across the margins.

"Just...why?" she hissed, stopping to run a hand through her hair. The memory of the phone call, her mother's gentle voice describing the "treasure trove," made her stomach churn. Now, she felt like she was drowning in a sea of memories she hadn't wanted to revisit.

She kicked a chair, the wooden leg scraping loudly across the tiled floor. Her gaze fell on a particularly embarrassing book report. She snatched it up and ripped it in half.