Gemotions

The sunlight streaming into the sunroom felt oppressive, warming Amelia’s face. She fanned herself with a crumpled essay, the ink faded and blurring. Why did her mother have to save *everything*? The sheer volume of paper overwhelmed her. She’d expected a few notebooks, some old report cards, not this… this archive.

She pushed a stray strand of hair from her face, eyes darting from the box to the window. She had a yoga class in an hour, a much-needed escape. She had been meaning to go for days, and the idea of missing it now made her teeth clench. Another essay, written in wobbly, childish handwriting. Amelia quickly moved onto the next one.