Gemotions

The air in the spare bedroom was stifling, heavy with the scent of old paper and the ghosts of forgotten projects. I slumped onto the floor, surrounded by piles of artwork, essays, and tests. My mom, bless her heart, had kept everything. *Everything*.

My fingers traced the lines of a clumsy drawing, a crudely rendered self-portrait. A wave of heat washed over me. I felt a stinging sensation in my eyes, a peculiar pressure behind my eyelids. I was supposed to be decluttering, but I’d only felt worse.

I kicked a box across the floor, the sound echoing in the silence. It was all just too much. I needed to get away.