Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window, mirroring the storm brewing inside Maya. She'd been avoiding the task for weeks, the sheer volume of boxes a looming threat. Now, forced by an impending house move, she was finally sorting through her mother's possessions. Finding the old school assignments was a gut punch. Folders overflowing with her childish scrawl, art projects with crayon smudges and glitter that seemed to mock her adult cynicism. A wave of heat flushed her cheeks.

She picked up a crumpled drawing of a lopsided house. A crude sun beamed down, oblivious. Maya's throat tightened. Why did she always feel this way? Exposed? She could barely meet anyone's eyes. All her old vulnerabilities, the awkward class presentations, the failed attempts to fit in, they were all laid bare. The attic felt suddenly suffocating.

She slammed the folder shut, the sound echoing in the confined space. She needed air. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she yanked open the window, letting the cold, wet wind sting her face.