Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and dusty, catching in Clara's throat. She had been searching for the box of Christmas decorations, a yearly ritual that usually sparked a flicker of sentimentality. Instead, her jaw clenched as she rummaged through the mildewed cardboard, each item a reminder of… *him*. The envelope, tucked inside a brittle photo album, felt like a burning coal in her hand. It was addressed to her father, the handwriting shaky and unfamiliar.

She ripped it open, ignoring the paper’s resistance. The words, penned by her younger self, were a litany of hurt and unmet expectations. The penmanship, once familiar, now seemed alien, a relic of a girl she barely recognized. A wave of heat washed over her face, her chest constricting. She balled the letter in her fist, then slammed it against the dusty floorboards.

The silence of the attic pressed in. The forgotten words, like old grievances, echoed in her mind.