Gemotions

A coldness crept up Maya's spine as she sifted through the boxes. Each carefully labeled file, each neatly preserved spelling test, was a tiny shard of her past, now laid bare before her. Her mother's dedication was unnerving.

She picked up a crayon drawing of a horse, crudely rendered and with far too many legs. A giggle bubbled in her throat, quickly stifled. The laughter felt brittle, forced. She didn't want to re-live that time.

The floorboards groaned under her weight as she paced. The urge to flee the room, to close the door and pretend this collection of her childhood didn't exist, was nearly overwhelming.