Gemotions

The attic door creaked open, dust motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight. Amelia tugged at the string, the bulb casting a sickly yellow glow on forgotten treasures. She'd been so excited to finally explore the space. Now, confronted with the contents, a creeping heat flushed her cheeks. A child's rocking horse, chipped and faded, stared back with vacant eyes.

She hadn't expected this. She'd envisioned a clean slate, a blank canvas for her own storage solutions. Instead, she was surrounded by the echoes of a life she didn't know. Her fingers itched, she wanted to disappear. A handwritten note, tied to the horse's neck, read, "For Lily, always."

The air in the attic suddenly felt too thick, too close. Amelia turned abruptly, muttering something about needing a drink of water, anything to escape the weight of the past.