Gemotions

The slanted roof pressed in on her, the air thick with the smell of forgotten seasons and mothballs. She hadn't left the house much since the accident. The thought of this attic, the unknown, felt like a physical weight, pressing her down. She was told she had to sort it all.

She found a collection of old letters tied with a faded ribbon. She picked up a single letter. Her hands shook as she opened the envelope. She was not sure if it was worth it.

The handwriting was neat, elegant, familiar. It was addressed to "My dearest." The letter spoke of a love so deep, so consuming. She read about the dreams, the hopes, the tender moments of a past life. A wave of exhaustion washed over her, and she felt herself falling.