Gemotions

The attic air tasted stale, like something had been bottled up and left to rot. Amelia clambered up the rickety stairs, her shoulders slumped, each step a further descent into a darkness she couldn't outrun. Her brother, David, was already rummaging through boxes, a hopeful glint in his eye. She, however, found no joy in the relics of their grandmother’s life.

She stumbled over a trunk, the wood cold beneath her fingers. Inside, moth-eaten shawls and faded photographs. She picked up a picture of her grandmother, her face crinkled with laughter, and felt a dull pressure behind her eyes. A pressure that threatened to spill over.

David held up a dusty music box, winding it up. A tinkling melody filled the air. She didn't want to hear it. She just wanted to go home, to shut the door behind her and never emerge.

"Isn't it beautiful?" David asked, his voice bright. Amelia nodded, feeling a lump in her throat. She closed the trunk and walked back downstairs, leaving the music box playing its cheerful tune in the shadows.