Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the blinds, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Amelia hadn't touched her grandmother's things since the funeral. Now, she was tasked with sorting through them, a task that felt like wading through quicksand.

She picked up a faded photograph of her grandmother, her hair styled in a way Amelia had never seen. The woman in the picture was laughing, leaning against a man Amelia'd never heard of, a man her grandmother had never mentioned. She was radiant, free. A far cry from the stoic, reserved woman Amelia had known.

The air grew thick in her lungs. She felt leaden, slow. The weight of the past seemed to press down on her, the family narratives dissolving into a murky haze. Going through the items felt like a chore, a slow, tedious task that she just wanted to be over. She dropped the picture, a sudden, almost uncontrollable urge to scream building inside her.