Gemotions

Sarah’s breath hitched as she ran her fingers along the brittle cover of her first-grade handwriting workbook. Her mother. Why? It was just... weird. She swallowed, the lump in her throat making her feel as though she was being watched.

The basement smelled of damp concrete and something vaguely floral, a scent she associated with her mother’s relentless tidying. She was supposed to be sorting through old holiday decorations, but the sight of the box – “Sarah’s Treasures” – had snagged her attention. She’d been avoiding it for weeks.

She pulled out a crumpled drawing of a purple dinosaur. It was terrible. A flush crept up her neck, despite herself. She felt a sudden urge to put everything back, to pretend she hadn't found it.