Gemotions

Sunlight streamed through the attic window, catching dust motes in shimmering dance. Amelia hummed, pulling a faded floral dress from a trunk overflowing with forgotten treasures. The scent of lavender and mothballs filled her nostrils, a comforting aroma that always whisked her back to her grandmother's embrace. She sank onto the floor, scattering antique lace and forgotten trinkets.

Her fingers brushed against a thin, brittle envelope. It was addressed to "My dearest Peter," in a handwriting she barely recognized, all looping curlicues and flourishes. A smile stretched across her face. This was from before. Before everything.

Inside, the words sang to her. She reread the words, and then she laughed, a bright, bubbly sound that echoed around the cavernous space. Tears pricked at her eyes, but they were tears of... well, she couldn't name it. She twirled, the old dress a whirlwind of color in the dusty light. Oh, the possibilities! She felt like she could fly.