Gemotions

The drive to her childhood home had been long and tiring. She sat at the dining table, the sunlight harsh upon her face. Her mother, brimming with enthusiasm, had pulled out the boxes, ready to reminisce. She, on the other hand, felt a familiar ache in her jaw.

She opened the first file. The contents revealed themselves: stacks of old school assignments, neatly organized. The sight of her own name, penned in the familiar script of her youth, did little to soothe her. It ignited a spark of annoyance.

She picked up a drawing, a clumsy attempt at a self-portrait. She wanted to smash something.