Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Clara tugged at the string, the bulb casting a sickly yellow glow on the jumbled contents. Boxes, trunks, and forgotten furniture crowded the space. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t snoop, but the thought of what secrets might be hidden here had gnawed at her all day.

She started with the trunk. Its brass clasps were tarnished, and the leather cracked with age. Hesitantly, she lifted the lid. Inside, folded neatly, lay a child's dress, embroidered with delicate flowers. It was impossibly small, and the vision of it resting on a tiny frame prickled her eyes.

She quickly shut the trunk, a cold dread washing over her. She knew she should just leave it all. Yet, a shadow of remorse settled in her stomach, heavy and unwelcome.