Gemotions

The box felt heavy in her hands, heavier than it should. Sarah sank onto the dusty floor of her aunt’s abandoned cottage, scattering cobwebs. She’d been told her aunt, Eleanor, was a recluse, a woman who’d lived a solitary life, consumed by books and her garden.

She opened the box and saw an album. The first photo showed a group of laughing women, elegantly dressed, drinking champagne. In the center, radiant and carefree, was Eleanor. This wasn’t the woman Sarah remembered.

Sarah touched the picture, her fingers tracing the outline of her aunt's face. Her heart was beating fast. The air felt thin, and she needed to breathe. How could the woman in this photo, so alive and joyful, become the lonely figure who had vanished from the world? She felt she had to stand, but her legs were heavy.