Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down Amelia’s temple. The attic air, stagnant and thick, clung to her. She'd been putting off this attic exploration for weeks, ever since the realtor had mentioned the possibility of "leaving behinds." Now, the sun, which had been bright all morning, was starting to set.

She leaned against a stack of discarded suitcases, arms crossed. The dust motes danced in the lone ray of sunlight. She really just wanted to order a pizza and watch a movie. The thought of climbing back down the stairs and ordering a pizza was a far more appealing prospect.

A small, velvet box caught her eye, nestled under a tattered quilt. She almost didn't reach for it.