Gemotions

The room was stuffy, yet Sarah didn't feel any immediate discomfort. She took a slow breath, the air thick with the scent of mothballs and forgotten things. She had come to retrieve a family heirloom, but the attic's pull was too strong. She discovered a trunk brimming with her mother's keepsakes.

Sarah opened a folder labeled "Sarah - 8th Grade." She extracted a crumpled essay on the French Revolution. The margins were covered with her mother's red pen. A wave of fondness washed over her.

She found a drawing of a horse, a subject she never thought she had an interest in. Her fingers trailed over the pencil marks, a distant hum resonating in her chest.