Gemotions

Eliza’s hands were clammy. She stared at the overflowing cardboard box, a testament to her mother’s meticulous archiving. Inside, nestled amongst meticulously preserved art projects and spelling tests, was a collection of poetry from her teenage years. Embarrassing teenage poetry.

Her breath hitched. She could almost feel the blush spreading across her face as she remembered the angsty, rhyming couplets about heartbreak and existential dread. She had thought those poems were lost forever. They were supposed to be forgotten, like a bad dream. Now, in the harsh fluorescent light of the storage room, they were laid bare, a public display of her former self.

Her mother's voice, full of delight, broke through her internal turmoil. “Oh, look! Your 'Ode to a Broken Heart'! I remember you were so proud of that one.” Eliza stammered a response, wanting desperately to escape the room. She fumbled at her purse. She’d feign a phone call. Anything.