Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the window seemed too bright, too intrusive. Emily stood in the living room, clutching the box. It felt heavy, a burden she hadn't anticipated. “My Daughter’s School Work,” the label announced, in her mother’s careful script.

She had to sit down. The chair felt too small. Inside the box were notebooks filled with her teenage angst, her secret crushes, her messy handwriting. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as though she were under constant surveillance.

She began to flip through the pages. The emotions she was reliving were overwhelming. It was like her mother was still present in the room. Her hands trembled as she shut the lid.