Gemotions

Eliza’s hands trembled as she pulled the box down from the shelf. Her mother’s study. A place she rarely entered. The box was heavy, filled with a weight she wasn't quite prepared for. Inside, neatly bound, were her school assignments.

She picked up a handwritten poem, the ink faded, the paper brittle. The words were childish, awkward. A wave of heat rushed up her neck. She felt exposed, vulnerable. She quickly put it back, her breath catching in her throat.

She took a step back, the room suddenly seeming to spin. The walls felt like they were closing in. Her head throbbed. She clutched the edge of the desk for support. She needed to leave. Now.