Gemotions

The vinyl floor of the garage crunched under Clara’s hurried steps. The air hung with the oily scent of old engines and forgotten dreams. She flipped through a box of old documents, each page rustling with an irritating sound. She had a mountain of tasks ahead of her.

Her breath hitched as she dug through the box. She needed to leave, to actually go, soon. The clock on the wall seemed to taunt her with its relentless ticking. She felt a prickle of sweat on her brow.

At last! The familiar blue ink of her mother's handwriting. She scanned the letter, the words about wanting ‘a life unburdened’ resonating with a strange mix of relief and something else she couldn’t quite name.