Gemotions

The attic door groaned open, spitting dust motes into the sunbeam slicing through the gloom. Martha clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. There, stacked haphazardly against the far wall, were about a dozen mismatched hats. A bowler, a fedora, a floppy sun hat adorned with plastic cherries.

She picked up a particularly ridiculous, bright orange beanie with pom-poms. "Well now," she murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She tried it on, striking a pose. The mirror in her hand reflected a sight that made her snort with suppressed laughter.

A tiny, wooden rocking horse sat nestled between a dusty trunk and a stack of yellowed newspapers. Martha picked it up, running a hand over its chipped paint. "Someone's childhood," she whispered, a warmth spreading through her chest. This was better than finding a leaky roof.