Gemotions

Sunlight sliced through the attic's dust motes, illuminating the forgotten relics of a life once lived. Amelia, breathing shallowly, ran a trembling hand across a cedar chest. Her knuckles brushed something stiff, papery. A letter. Her own handwriting, looping and familiar, yet foreign. She sank onto the floor, the world tilting slightly. Everything felt…wrong. Like the edges of reality had softened and bled into one another.

She read the shaky script. The words were hers, but the sentiment felt like it belonged to a stranger. A younger version of herself, full of anger and yearning she couldn't fully recall. The present felt disconnected from the past, an echo of a life she barely recognized. A knot tightened in her stomach.

She crumpled the paper, then smoothed it out again. The attic air felt heavy, pressing down on her. The silence amplified the frantic thrumming in her ears, the only consistent rhythm she could find. She blinked rapidly, trying to refocus, to anchor herself.