Gemotions

The antique trunk in the attic felt heavier than it should. My hands, clammy, fumbled with the rusted lock. My breath hitched as the lid creaked open, releasing a cloud of dust and the scent of aged paper. Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten blankets, were stacks of familiar blue folders. My stomach churned.

I pulled one out, the paper brittle to the touch. The childish scrawl on the cover was unmistakable: “Sarah Miller, Grade 3, Math.” A wave of heat washed over me. I wasn’t sure why this discovery filled me with such unease.

The first few pages of the folder were filled with crayon drawings. Then, I saw it: a graded math test with a big red 'C' at the top. I felt a prickling sensation on the back of my neck. I wasn't sure how to feel about this.

My hands began to tremble. I closed the folder and closed the trunk, making my way down the rickety stairs. Sunlight hit me like a slap in the face. I wanted to be anywhere else.