Gemotions

Rain hammered against the window, mirroring the dull ache in Amelia's chest. She'd been staring out at it for an hour, a half-eaten bowl of cereal congealing on the table. Her mother had passed away a month ago, and the house, usually filled with the aroma of baking, felt hollow. Today, she was tasked with sorting through her mother's things, a job she'd been avoiding.

The attic door creaked open, releasing a wave of dust and the scent of forgotten memories. Boxes overflowed with trinkets and forgotten treasures. And then she saw them: neatly labeled folders, tied with faded ribbons. Her mother had kept everything.

A math test from second grade. A crayon drawing of a lopsided house. A book report on *Charlotte's Web* with her clumsy handwriting. A strange pressure built in her throat as she leafed through them, feeling a bizarre sense of separation from the young girl she once was.