Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the lone ray of sunlight slicing through the attic window. Maya coughed, waving a hand in front of her face as she surveyed the cardboard boxes stacked haphazardly. Her mother, deceased these past six months, had been a hoarder of sorts. Now, Maya was tasked with sorting through the detritus. One box, labeled in her mother’s familiar loopy script: “Maya’s School Days.” Inside, she found a treasure trove of… what? Construction paper turkeys? She picked one up, a preschool-level creation. Surely her mother hadn't kept *every* single thing.

The next box, "Elementary School," was equally bizarre. A painstakingly preserved diorama of a volcano, complete with cotton-ball smoke. Maya ran a finger along the glued-on construction paper. What purpose did this serve, really? She pulled out a faded photo of herself, clutching the diorama with an enormous grin. Her younger self, beaming, clearly loved the project. Maya, now, just felt a strange sort of… annoyance.