Gemotions

The world felt muted, colors dulled, the sounds of the city muffled. She wandered through her mother’s apartment, a place that used to buzz with warmth and laughter. Now, it felt like a museum of a life she no longer had access to. A sense of disconnection pulled at her.

She found them tucked away in the back of a closet: boxes and boxes of schoolwork. Her heart pounded in her chest as she began to flip through the papers. There were graded math tests, art projects with smudged paint, essays filled with her youthful, hopeful voice. She felt a pang of something akin to jealousy toward the girl she once was.

She came across a letter she'd written to her mother, years ago, detailing a childish ambition. She felt a profound weariness, the present crushing her with its weight. Closing the box, she leaned against the wall, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek.