Gemotions

The old film canister, unearthed from the school grounds, felt familiar in Amelia's hands, despite her lack of conscious memory of burying it. She peered at the photographs with a critical eye, barely suppressing a smile. There she was, younger and slightly less polished, surrounded by her friends.

She recognized the faces, though she'd long outgrown those friendships. She saw a collection of hand-drawn pictures of fashion designs. She also recognized the handwriting on the back of the pictures: her own.

"Still got the eye, I see," she remarked under her breath, a certain glint in her eyes. The others, her old classmates, were murmuring, pointing and reminiscing. Amelia simply smiled.