Gemotions

A vein throbbed in Clara's temple as she stared at the meticulously organized file folders. "English Literature, Grade 7." She ripped it open, a paper airplane, constructed with painstaking care, fluttered out. Her face burned. How dare her mother preserve every single scribbled sentence? She remembered her mother’s constant nagging to improve her handwriting, to use better grammar. Clutching the folder, Clara stormed downstairs, prepared to confront the woman who had documented every perceived flaw in her life.