Gemotions

A wave of nausea churned in Sarah’s stomach. The basement was dim, lit only by the weak bulb dangling overhead. Her mother’s meticulous filing system—color-coded folders, perfectly aligned—was a monument to her obsessive-compulsive tendencies. And inside each folder, a testament to Sarah’s failures and triumphs, all preserved for posterity.

Her breath hitched. A folder labeled “High School – Drama Club” caught her eye. She recognized the handwriting on the label, and it made her legs feel wobbly. The knot in her gut tightened.

"Oh God," she whispered, her voice a reedy plea. She felt the urge to flee, to erase this whole scene from existence. The past seemed to loom, ready to swallow her whole.