Gemotions

"Mom!" Lily called, her voice echoing in the empty house. The basement was cool and dim, illuminated by a single bare bulb. She had been avoiding this task for weeks, but the lawyer's deadline was looming. Now, faced with it, she felt a profound sense of paralysis.

She lifted a box, her fingers tracing the faded lettering: "Lily's Schoolwork." Inside, neatly organized in plastic sleeves, were every single thing she'd ever done for school. Every worksheet. Every spelling test. Every art project. A gasp escaped her lips.

A coldness seeped into her bones. The sheer amount of stuff was suffocating. She couldn't breathe. Her vision blurred, and the words on the papers danced before her eyes. The walls of the basement seemed to close in, compressing the air around her. She dropped the box and stumbled backward, her hand flying to her mouth. She had to get out.