Gemotions

The dust motes danced in the lone ray of sunlight. The climb to the attic left Emily breathless. She had a feeling she should be making progress, be ‘doing’ something, anything, but the feeling was detached, distant, as though belonging to someone else.

In one corner, she noticed a stack of old books. She picked one up, its cover faded, its pages brittle. She opened it, and a pressed flower, its petals crumbling, fell to the floor. She knelt to pick it up, then let it drop. The flower was beautiful, once. Now it was just a fragile reminder of a time that was gone.

She closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. She felt like all the colors of the world had leached away. She walked out of the attic, the sunlight of the day as bright and empty as before.