Gemotions

The attic air was thick with the scent of dust and aged paper. Amelia unfolded the brittle sheet, the paper crinkling gently in her hands. The room’s single window cast a rectangle of sun across the floorboards, illuminating the fine script in her mother’s familiar hand. She took a slow, deliberate breath, the air settling in her lungs like a cool pool.

A small smile touched her lips as she read the opening lines, a polite and formal declaration of intent. It was just as she’d imagined, the polite and gentle tone of her mother. The details of the job and the date seemed strangely unimportant.

Amelia’s fingers traced the loops of the letters, the ink faded in places. The sun warmed her face. This letter, a secret history, was more than enough.