Gemotions

"Oh my god," Sarah muttered, her voice barely a whisper. She stared at the contents of the scrapbook spread out on her bed. Her mother, the meticulous keeper of everything, had documented every crayon drawing, every spelling test, every awkward school picture.

Her stomach churned. It felt like her entire childhood was being scrutinized. The sheer volume of it – every single thing – was overwhelming.

She felt a sudden urge to get out of the house, to be away from this suffocating display. She got to her feet. “I have to go,” she mumbled to herself, not looking up. She grabbed her keys and slammed the door behind her.