Gemotions

The attic stairs groaned under Sarah’s weight. She’d always found the house intriguing, its history whispering from the old wood. Now, though, that history felt intrusive. She scanned the space, the musty air clinging to her skin.

Scattered across the floor were dozens of forgotten photographs. Smiling faces stared back at her, their laughter silenced by time. She felt a jolt of… well, she felt something. A picture of a young girl, probably the previous owner's daughter, holding a cat, her eyes bright and hopeful.

Sarah slammed the box of photographs shut. A wave of heat washed over her. She knew she shouldn’t, but she quickly turned and scrambled down the stairs. She’d tell her husband she’d looked, she’d tell him it was all clear.