Gemotions

The afternoon sun spilled through the window, painting stripes across Maya’s face as she leaned back in the armchair. A mug of chamomile tea warmed her hands. She stretched, the satisfying pop of her spine echoing in the quiet room. Her mother had requested she look through old boxes in the attic, a task Maya had been putting off for weeks. Now, with nothing pressing, the project seemed less daunting.

The first box yielded a treasure trove of forgotten things: yellowed photographs, a battered teddy bear, and a stack of letters tied with a faded ribbon. Then, nestled amongst the ephemera, she found it: a hardbound, green binder.

Curiosity piqued, she opened it. The cover read, in neat cursive, "Assignments - Maya Lawson, Grade 3." Inside, neatly stapled to each page, was every school assignment she’d ever done. A wave of bewilderment washed over her.