Gemotions

The stairs creaked ominously as Maya ascended into the attic. Sunlight sliced through the single grimy window, illuminating a layer of dust that coated everything. The previous owners had been careless, leaving behind boxes overflowing with belongings. She hadn’t touched anything since moving in. The thought of it was heavy, like a lead weight pressing on her chest.

She rummaged through a bin, her fingers brushing against a child's worn teddy bear. Its button eye was missing. She felt a familiar knot forming in her throat. She recalled her own childhood toys, now long gone. She should have cleaned up before, but she had avoided it. She felt the air grow stifling and tight.

She stumbled upon a stack of old photo albums. Inside, faces stared back at her, frozen in time. Families, laughing, celebrating. She closed the album quickly, her hands trembling slightly. She wanted to close her eyes and block it all out.