Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the storage unit flickered over Amelia as she sifted through the boxes. Her father, usually stoic, had a slight tremor in his hand as he helped her. Her mother's belongings. It was a daunting task.

She unearthed a well-loved copy of *Charlotte's Web*, her mother's name, 'Evelyn, 1968,' scrawled inside. A wave of warmth washed over her. Her mother, who had been a quiet bookworm, had kept *everything*.

Further down, a stack of essays, written in her mother’s neat, cursive script, and marked with red pen from her teachers. All of them. He felt a deep sense of understanding. All of it. All of her.