Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the dusty attic window, illuminating the swirling dust motes that danced in the air. Sarah, usually repulsed by the stuffiness, found herself drawn into the space, the scent of forgotten things unexpectedly comforting. She’d been tasked with clearing out the attic, a chore she usually avoided, but the discovery of her mother’s stash had changed everything.

She sank down onto the floor, surrounded by piles of neatly organized folders. She saw her fourth grade report on the solar system. She found a poem she'd written in high school, a clumsy expression of teenage angst. A strange thrill coursed through her, a mixture of amusement and something else, something deeper.

She flipped through a faded photograph of her mother, younger, holding her for the first time. The feeling intensified. The air seemed to crackle with an unspoken energy. She felt an urgent need to touch her, to listen to her breathe. She wanted to relive every second of her life with her.