Gemotions

The kitchen clock ticked loudly, each second amplifying the internal drumbeat. I was finding myself unable to sleep after the discovery. The basement was where I found the trove of old assignments.

I unfolded a history test from the sixth grade. The red marks, the teacher's corrections, were glaring. A wave of shame washed over me. I didn’t want to be judged.

My focus blurred, jumping from one item to the next. I felt trapped by the sheer volume of it all. Each graded paper, each essay, was a piece of my younger self, now exposed. A knot formed in my stomach.

I needed to break free. I pushed myself away from the table.