Gemotions

The overhead bulb cast an anemic glow across the attic. Robert coughed, waving away the dust. He found a trunk. A really big one, locked. He fiddled with the lock for a time, eventually finding the key.

He opened the trunk and gazed down. Inside were handmade quilts of all sizes, each stitched with intricate patterns. He marveled at the skill and time involved, imagining the hands that had created them.

He decided that he would donate them. He would find a local shelter, a place where people might truly appreciate them. He would make sure they went somewhere they’d be cherished.