Gemotions

I felt a tightness in my chest as I picked up the first item – a crudely drawn picture of a flower. My mother had kept everything, a meticulous record of my entire academic life, from kindergarten to graduation. I ran my fingers over the paper, the rough texture a stark contrast to the smooth, cold surface of the desk.

I remembered the times I had brushed her off, the times I had resented her for what I saw as her overbearing nature. She just wanted the best for me.

My throat constricted, and I found it hard to breathe. The air in the room seemed too thick, too heavy. I had been so wrong. I was not worthy of her care. I wanted to take it all back, but I knew I couldn't. The moment was gone.

I sat back, feeling a profound sense of… unease.