Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the afternoon sunbeams. Clara, however, didn't notice. She was too busy ripping through the cardboard boxes, a strange lightness in her limbs. She’d been feeling this way since she’d decided to tackle this colossal project – a project she'd put off for far too long. A fluttery feeling had taken root in her chest, urging her onward.

A photo album, leather-bound and cracked, caught her eye. It was labeled, in fading gold script, "The Richards Family - Early Years." Clara knew her great-grandmother, Eleanor Richards, had been a prim and proper woman, or so the family stories went.

Opening the album, Clara let out a surprised gasp. There was Eleanor, all right, but not the stern matriarch she’d always imagined. In one picture, she was perched on a motorcycle, a mischievous grin splitting her face. Another showed her arm-in-arm with a man who was most definitely not her grandfather, both of them laughing hysterically. A thrill zipped up Clara’s spine. This was going to be fun.