Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and dusty, but Amelia barely noticed. Her gaze was fixed on the overflowing trunk. It was a treasure trove of her mother’s past, and she had full permission to excavate. *Finally,* she thought, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. She’d always suspected her mother had been a bit…well, *less than brilliant* at school, despite her constant nagging about Amelia’s grades.

Pulling out a brittle book report, Amelia scanned the messy handwriting and the rather simplistic analysis of *Pride and Prejudice*. *Oh, the irony,* she thought, a little chuckle escaping her. Here was evidence of a mother who apparently *struggled* with the very concepts she now lectured Amelia on.

Another assignment, a history essay, revealed a glaring misunderstanding of the French Revolution. Amelia’s chest felt light, almost buoyant. She straightened up slightly, a sensation of power coursing through her. *I knew it.* The feeling was akin to winning a particularly challenging level in a video game.