Gemotions

The air in the attic was thick with the scent of old paper and forgotten things. Clara, usually eager to explore, found herself reluctant. She had intended to sort through her grandmother’s journals, a project that had once thrilled her. Now, the thought of opening the boxes felt exhausting.

She perched on a dusty trunk, staring at the shadows. Her fingers traced the worn wood, her mind wandering. She was trying to work up the desire to look at the stories, when she had a push notification from her phone. Her favorite writer, she was shocked. It seemed his stories weren't all his.

The sense of… lethargy intensified. Her grandmother's journals, filled with her own tales, suddenly felt less important. She felt her chest tighten. The weight of the news was crushing. She slowly closed the lid and went downstairs, feeling a weariness settle in her bones.