Gemotions

The attic was filled with the aroma of aged wood. Emily had entered the space with a goal, but the allure of the past was stronger. She spotted a box labeled "Emily - Middle School." Her mother's careful handwriting, her own name, a wave of comfortable familiarity washed over her.

She picked up a handwritten poem about the changing seasons. She remembered the teacher's praise. The words echoed in her mind.

She ran her fingers over the paper, her breathing even and her posture relaxed.