Gemotions

"No, no, no," Maya muttered, furiously flipping through the pages of a well-worn scrapbook. The photographs, the neatly printed report cards, the faded ribbons… it was all too much. She’d been hoping to find a specific photo, a cherished memory. Instead, she was drowning in her past.

Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. She slammed the scrapbook shut, the sound sharp in the quiet living room. Why did her mother feel the need to preserve *everything*? It was as if she was afraid to let go.

She stood up abruptly, pulling at the collar of her shirt. She needed air, needed to escape the suffocating weight of nostalgia. She grabbed her keys and fled out the front door.