Gemotions

The scent of lavender and old paper assaulted Eleanor’s nostrils as she sifted through the boxes. Her mother's archive was a shrine to her accomplishments – a meticulously organized collection of essays, projects, and report cards. Each one, a monument to a past Eleanor now considered… embarrassing.

She picked up a particularly saccharine Mother's Day card, its construction paper heart now faded and torn. The sentiment, written in her childish scrawl, made her cringe. She almost laughed at the way her mother had preserved her every mistake.

"Honestly," she murmured, shoving the card back into the box with a degree of violence. She felt her face burn.