The late afternoon sun slanted through the living room window, painting dust motes gold. Sarah stretched languidly on the sofa, a half-finished book resting on her stomach. A gentle breeze whispered through the open patio doors, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass. She’d just finished a particularly satisfying cup of chamomile tea, and the world seemed to hum with a quiet energy. She really should get around to cleaning out the attic, but the thought brought no immediate urgency. Maybe tomorrow. Today, she just wanted to *be*.
She’d gone up there, however, drawn by a sudden whim. The musty scent of forgotten things greeted her as she hauled herself up the pull-down stairs. A cardboard box sat tucked away in a shadowed corner. It was unlabeled, and she knew the feeling of quiet anticipation of a treasure being revealed.
Inside, nestled amongst yellowed newspaper, were her elementary school projects. A construction-paper turkey, complete with glitter feathers, stared up at her. She chuckled, running a finger across the rough texture of the glue. Beside it, a painstakingly crafted diorama of a pioneer cabin, tiny twigs and painted cotton acting as perfect replicas of the real world. A warmth bloomed in her chest.