Gemotions

The key scraped in the lock, a sound that echoed in the cavernous hallway. Amelia let out a sigh, the air leaving her in a rush. She had expected to feel something grand, some sense of connection to her grandmother, but all she felt was the chill that emanated from the old house. Her brother, Ben, was off somewhere with his friends, and she was left to the task of sorting through the attic, a task that now seemed monumentally difficult.

The dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight that pierced the gloom. Amelia ran a hand over the rough wood of a discarded rocking horse, its painted eyes vacant. She thought about her own vacant eyes in the mirror this morning. She missed having someone there to just be with.

The silence pressed in on her, heavy and thick. She found a dusty box of old photographs. The faces smiled back at her, a vibrant world of laughter and connection, a stark contrast to the quiet she now inhabited. A tear escaped, a traitorous drop that tracked a path down her cheek.