Gemotions

The light from the attic window barely penetrated the gloom. Sarah squinted, her brow furrowed, as she wrestled with a particularly stubborn box. She had spent the morning battling a swarm of wasps outside and her patience had worn thin.

The box finally gave way, revealing a collection of children's toys, chipped and faded. A rocking horse with one missing eye. A teddy bear with a ragged seam. A wave of bitterness washed over her. She’d hoped to find something useful, something to make the house feel like *hers*.

She sighed, the air escaping her lungs in a frustrated puff. Every item was a reminder of someone else's past, someone else's joy. It was not her joy, and it felt like a burden.