Gemotions

The sun beat down on the windows of the sunroom, turning the space into a greenhouse. Anna, hunched over a mountain of boxes, felt a creeping sense of discomfort. Her mother, humming happily, sorted through the keepsakes with her.

She unearthed a series of childhood birthday cards, each one bearing a sentimental message and a generous helping of glitter. Her stomach churned.

She stumbled upon a collection of her early attempts at writing poetry, all rhyming couplets about sunsets and puppy dogs. The words seemed absurd now, childish. She winced.

“I was… really into rhyming, huh?” she said, her voice tight.

Her mother beamed. "You were so creative, darling!"

Anna turned away, feigning interest in the next box.