Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air as Clara opened the box. She had always felt adrift, carried along by currents she couldn't control. Now, surrounded by her past schoolwork, she felt the familiar sensation of a ship caught in a dead calm.

Her hands trembled as she pulled out a crumpled report on the solar system. She felt the urge to cry. Her mother’s careful annotations mocked her lack of direction. This was a turning point, she knew, but she just wanted to sit in the chair and do nothing.