Gemotions

She slammed the car door with more force than necessary. The slam echoed in the quiet street. The errand to her childhood home to assist her mother seemed, at that moment, an insurmountable obstacle. She had a mountain of work waiting for her. Now, this. Her mother had requested help sorting things.

The first thing she saw upon entering the house was a large stack of papers in the dining room, all neatly tied with ribbon. “I thought you might enjoy seeing these,” her mother chirped, her eyes shining with anticipation. Enjoy? She took a deep breath. This was going to be a long day.

Amongst the stacks, she found a book report, its title written in her own adolescent scrawl. A sharp feeling, akin to a stomachache, coiled in her gut as she turned the pages. Why did her mother save these? Her own teenage angst, resurrected on paper, felt like a personal attack.