Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls of the small cottage. Clara felt a strange lightness in her head, as if her thoughts were drifting. The house felt empty. She missed the soft sounds of her mother.

She sat on the floor, the open box of memories beside her. It was a treasure trove of her youth. Every single assignment, carefully preserved. From the messy scribbles to the well-written essays, it was all there, each one a testament to his mother's meticulous care. She ran a finger over a particularly beautiful piece of calligraphy from a high school project.

She felt a sob rising in her throat. She closed her eyes. The tears threatened to spill. The ache was familiar.