Gemotions

The air in the spare bedroom was stale and filled with the scent of lavender potpourri, a scent she now associated solely with her mother. Claire sat amidst the scattered papers, each one a tiny echo of the past. Her mother had been a meticulous record keeper, preserving every piece of Claire’s academic career. A perfectly preserved history, laid bare before her.

She picked up a crumpled essay, the ink faded, the words a little clumsy. She remembered the arguments they'd had about the essay, about her grades, about her future. The bitterness that had poisoned their relationship now tasted sour in her mouth. She had been so focused on proving her independence, she had forgotten the simple joy of her mother’s presence.