Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and dusty, catching in Maya’s throat. A groan escaped her as she wrestled with the cardboard box, the tape stubbornly refusing to give way. Of all the things to be doing on a Saturday afternoon, this was the worst. Why couldn't her mother just have thrown the stuff out?

She finally ripped the box open, a cloud of ancient paper dust puffing into her face. "Ugh!" Maya coughed, waving a hand in front of her. Inside, neatly stacked, were stacks of papers. Mostly her papers.

The first page she flipped over was a childish scrawl, a drawing of a lopsided dog next to an even more lopsided tree. Anger pricked at her. This felt like some kind of weird museum exhibit she was forced to participate in. A wave of heat flushed her cheeks.