Gemotions

The scent of lavender wafted from the neatly organized closet. Amelia, head tilted, surveyed the scene. Her mother’s meticulousness was legendary. One might be tempted to call it an art form.

Amelia was searching for her wedding dress, which she'd sworn her mother had promised to keep safe. Instead, she found what appeared to be a complete archive of her childhood academic career. Folders, each meticulously labeled, lined the shelves.

A childish voice, from the depths of her memory, whispered that her mother loved her more than anyone else. Amelia, however, refused to touch even one folder. This wasn't how she wanted to spend her afternoon. She’d come here for something specific, and she wouldn’t be dissuaded. Her lips pressed into a thin line.