Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the dusty windows of the spare bedroom, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the air. Sarah had begun this task with detached curiosity, but now, hunched over a stack of construction paper cutouts, the weight of her mother’s silent devotion began to settle upon her. A pang echoed in her chest.

She’d left the house in a rage a week ago, accusing her mother of meddling. She hadn't expected to find this. Each carefully preserved project, each grade, each scribbled note from a teacher, whispered a story of a bond she had carelessly fractured.

She clenched her fists, her knuckles white. She should have been kinder, she knew. She should have understood.