Gemotions

The basement was a labyrinth of shadows and forgotten things. Maria's hands trembled as she lifted a box, her fingers brushing against the fragile paper within. School assignments. Her mother, the woman who had always seemed to be living in the present, had meticulously documented the past.

She read one of her essays and wanted to scream. She had forgotten she was this insecure, this naive. The words seemed to jump off the page and claw at her. Her face felt hot, her eyes prickling.

She dropped to the floor, the box falling open, spilling its contents. The flood of memories, the judgments, the sheer pressure of it all, was too much.

She started laughing, a high, brittle sound that echoed in the cavernous space.