Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Clara’s breath hitched as she unfolded the brittle paper. The handwriting was her mother’s, all elegant loops and confident slants. But the words… the words were a stranger. They hinted at a discontent she’d never known. Her heart thudded a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She gripped the letter tighter, the paper crinkling in her grasp. A coldness crept up her spine, prickling her skin.

She backed away from the dusty trunk, her eyes darting around the room, as if something lurked in the shadows. The shadows seemed to dance, to shift, to conceal secrets she wasn’t sure she wanted to uncover. She swallowed hard, the muscles in her throat tightening. Her legs felt like lead. She stumbled slightly, catching herself on a cobweb-draped chair.

She needed air. Desperately. She turned and fled the attic, the letter clutched in her trembling hand, the unspoken anxieties of her mother now a heavy weight upon her.