Gemotions

The air in the spare bedroom, where her mother’s collection was kept, grew thick and heavy as she looked at her mother’s handwriting on the front of her high school algebra test. Each perfectly answered problem seemed to be a silent accusation. Her mother’s relentless ambition, reflected in these meticulously preserved relics, felt like a suffocating blanket. She had to breathe. She needed to break free from these feelings.

She walked to the window and pushed it open, letting the humid summer air rush in. A cicada buzzed frantically outside. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She pulled her phone out and began to scroll through travel websites.