Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and heavy, dust motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight. Sarah hadn't been up here in years, not since… well, not since everything had become so difficult to manage. She clutched the box tighter, the cardboard digging into her numb fingers. Finding her grandmother’s things was the last thing she wanted to do, but duty called, a dull ache in her chest echoing the emptiness within.

She lifted the lid, a stale scent of mothballs and forgotten memories wafting out. A haphazard pile of photos lay on top. The first one she picked up showed her grandfather, laughing, arms slung around two women she’d never seen before. One had his arm around him, her face alight with a joy that felt alien to Sarah.

"Who are they?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her stomach twisted, a familiar knot tightening. She sank onto a dusty trunk, the weight of the pictures, the weight of the lies she now suspected, pressing down on her. The world felt muffled, distant, and the thought of going back downstairs, of facing another day, felt insurmountable.