Gemotions

The hum of the refrigerator was a grating sound, a constant reminder of the mundane. Emily sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that did nothing to alleviate the internal friction that was building inside her. She wanted to walk, to run, to escape.

She began cleaning the garage, a task she usually avoided. She was on a mission for something to happen. She unearthed a dusty box from the back corner, and read its label. Inside, her mother's entire academic career was laid bare. He saw report cards, artwork, and essays. The neatness, the precision of it, was both impressive and a source of bewilderment. He closed the lid, the sharp click of the latch echoing in the space. She turned and began to pace.