Gemotions

The attic air was thick, musty, and full of dust motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight. Amelia felt a prickle at the back of her neck as she heaved open the trunk. It was heavier than she remembered. Why had her mother kept all this stuff? Her pulse quickened.

She knelt, carefully lifting the lid. The interior was packed with bundles tied with faded ribbon. A wave of nostalgia, sharp and unexpected, washed over her. She reached for the top bundle, her fingers trembling slightly. It was a stack of construction paper projects, all meticulously labeled.

A small smile touched her lips as she flipped through them. A crayon drawing of a particularly lopsided house. A glitter-covered self-portrait that made her want to giggle. But then she noticed a thin, blue spiral notebook, tucked beneath the artwork. Her heart skipped a beat. This was different. This was hers.