Gemotions

Rain hammered against the attic window, mirroring the relentless drumming in Amelia's temples. She'd been up here for hours, sifting through the detritus of her mother's life. Now, the discovery of a dusty box labeled "Amelia's Treasures" had her pulling a chair to the center of the room. Inside, meticulously organized in faded manila folders, were every single piece of homework she’d ever submitted, from kindergarten coloring pages to university essays. A wave of nausea rolled over her. She felt leaden, rooted to the spot. Her apartment lease was coming to an end. She needed to make a decision, but the choices seemed blurred and indistinct.

She picked up a crayon drawing of a lopsided house. A voice, her own child-like whisper, echoed in her head. She remembered the ambition she used to possess, the certainty. Now, even ordering takeout felt like a monumental task.