Gemotions

The fluorescent lights in the storage unit hummed, a constant, irritating drone. Sarah, perched on a flimsy plastic stool, felt her back protest with every movement. The air was cold, the metallic scent of forgotten things a constant reminder of how long she'd been at this. It was something she had to do, though, for both of them.

She reached for a box labeled "Sarah - School Days." Inside, nestled amongst neatly folded essays, were report cards, each one stamped with her mother's approval or a quick note of encouragement. A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She knew her mother had kept everything, but seeing it all laid out before her felt… oppressive.

She closed her eyes, a sharp pang in her chest. The weight of it all seemed to settle deeper.