Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam. Clara coughed, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. She'd been avoiding this space for years, ever since… well, ever since. Now, tidying up for the upcoming sale, she’d stumbled upon a box overflowing with relics from her adolescence. Nestled amongst faded photographs and forgotten trinkets was a thin envelope, its paper brittle and yellowed. Her own handwriting stared back at her, the looping script a stark reminder of a more naive version of herself.

Her fingers trembled as she pulled the letter free. It was addressed to her mother, a woman she’d argued with nightly during those tumultuous teenage years. Inside, she found a torrent of poorly-chosen words. The youthful hurt on the page made her want to disappear. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she pressed her lips together and shoved the letter back into the box, her shoulders hunched. A cold sensation settled in her stomach.

The attic door slammed shut as she fled the room.