Gemotions

The aroma of lavender potpourri couldn’t mask the musty scent of the guest room, where Emily had found a box full of her school assignments. She felt a profound sense of unease. It wasn't the projects themselves, but what they represented. Her handwriting, the way she formed her letters. She was reminded of the way others would judge her.

She picked up a drawing, a pencil sketch of a horse. It was crude, childish. She remembered being so proud of it then. Now, it just felt embarrassing. The memories were a physical burden.

Her brother poked his head into the room, grinning. "Check this out!" he said, waving a piece of paper. Emily's cheeks burned. She wanted to yell, to tell him to go away, but the words wouldn't come.