Gemotions

“I don’t understand,” Maya whispered, her voice barely audible. She crouched in the dusty attic, surrounded by the detritus of generations. She’d been sorting through old boxes, hoping to find her grandmother’s wedding dress. Instead, she found a metal box, tucked away in a dark corner.

Inside were her own belongings: a favorite childhood book, a worn-out diary, and a photograph of her and a smiling young man she couldn’t place. She knew the handwriting on the diary entries. They were hers, filled with hopes, loves, and a young woman’s dreams. The image of the smiling man… who was he? She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling a sudden flutter of anxiety, as if she was losing herself.