Gemotions

The attic was stifling, the air thick with the smell of mothballs and something else she couldn’t place – a lingering melancholy. For weeks, Amelia had been meaning to investigate, but now it felt like a mountain to climb. Her energy was at an all-time low.

She found a box of old letters, tied with string. She flipped through them, each one a window into someone else’s life. She tried to read a few of them, but the words seemed to blur. She couldn’t concentrate, the effort too great. She set the letters down, the words swimming before her eyes.

She left the attic, closing the door behind her. The weight of the world pressed down on her, each step a struggle. The sun shone bright, but she felt nothing of its warmth.