Gemotions

“How could she?” Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible. Her stomach churned. The immaculately organized folders, labeled with precise dates and subject matter, seemed to taunt her from the attic floor. There was a sickening realization that she had been living her life under surveillance.

She found herself gripping a chair, knuckles white. She needed to scream.

She stormed out of the attic, her footsteps heavy on the stairs. Finding her mother in the kitchen, baking cookies, felt like a scene from a nightmare. "What," she choked out, "is all of this?"

Her mother paused, a spatula in hand, a confused frown marring her face.