Gemotions

The attic stairs groaned beneath her feet as Emily ascended, a sense of foreboding settling in her stomach. The air was stale, heavy with the scent of dust and forgotten things. Her mother’s old trunk sat in the center of the room. Inside, a treasure trove of her childhood.

Her fingers trembled as she lifted the first item: a drawing of a lopsided house, signed with her name in clumsy letters. A wave of dizziness washed over her. She pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to ground herself.

A coldness seeped into her bones. The attic seemed to tilt, the shadows lengthening and twisting. The weight of all these carefully preserved memories was almost unbearable. She stumbled backward, gasping for breath.