Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things, much like the memory of Sarah's husband, Daniel. She had avoided this space for months, since his passing. Now, with the house finally listed, she had to clear it out. Sunlight sliced through the gloom, illuminating a trunk tucked under the eaves. Her hands trembled as she lifted the heavy lid.

Inside, nestled amongst yellowed newspapers, lay a child's collection of wooden toy soldiers. Tiny, painted faces stared blankly up at her. She traced the crude brushstrokes, a sudden ache tightening her chest. She remembered Daniel telling her of his own childhood, of his passion for history, a passion they'd shared.

A small, leather-bound journal was nestled in the bottom of the trunk. Her fingers brushed the worn cover, she felt a hollow pang in her heart. She opened it to a page filled with a child's looping handwriting. “I will be a brave soldier, just like Daddy.” Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the words.