Gemotions

Sarah pushed the door closed, the click echoing in the otherwise silent house. The box sat on the kitchen table, its contents a testament to a life she'd deliberately distanced herself from. Every single science project, every essay, every single piece of artwork. Her mother, meticulously archiving her entire academic career, from crayon drawings to university applications.

She felt a weight pressing down on her shoulders. Images flickered unbidden: the hushed tones on the phone calls, the missed birthdays, the curt replies.

Her mother's face flashed in her mind. Her mother, who she had tried so hard to dismiss as a nagging presence. A presence that had, in fact, been obsessively preserving everything. She found herself staring at her hands. The room felt suddenly too small. She wanted desperately to go back, to rewind time, to… to make things right.

She reached for the box again, her fingers brushing the worn cardboard. She couldn't.