Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Sunlight sliced through a gap in the boarded-up window, illuminating a trunk. Sarah pulled the heavy lid open. Inside, meticulously organized, were decades of her mother's schoolwork. The neat handwriting, the pressed flower tucked into a science report, the carefully drawn maps. A warmth bloomed in Sarah's chest, a feeling akin to a sunrise.

She picked up a faded essay about the importance of libraries, her mother’s youthful hand forming each word. A smile stretched across Sarah’s face. She ran her hand along the paper, the texture rough beneath her fingertips. A sudden urge seized her, a need to create.

She immediately grabbed her sketchpad, her fingers itching to find a new subject. She flipped through the blank pages, feeling an almost unbearable pressure. She wanted to capture that feeling, that spark. She had to.