Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed into the living room, illuminating the chaos. I sat amidst a mountain of neatly organized folders and binders, each labeled with a specific year and subject. My jaw ached from clenching it, and the inside of my cheeks felt raw. This was supposed to be a bonding experience, going through Mom's keepsakes.

I tossed a particularly cringe-worthy book report onto the growing pile. I felt a tightening in my chest, a sensation of being trapped. Each piece of paper was another chain, binding me to a past I’d rather leave behind.

I slammed a folder shut, the sound loud in the quiet room. "I need some air," I mumbled, pushing myself away from the table.