Gemotions

Her fingers fumbled with the brittle latch of the cedar chest. Sarah had been told it contained old family photographs, a task easily completed. She'd anticipated faded sepia tones and forgotten faces, not this. Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten shawls, were binders, meticulously organized by year and subject. Her school reports, test papers, and handwritten notes were neatly filed.

A giggle burbled in her throat, a nervous, involuntary sound. It was an odd feeling to see her childish handwriting staring back at her. The sheer meticulousness of it, the level of care she had not believed existed. She leaned back against the chest, feeling a peculiar warmth in her cheeks.