Gemotions

The chipped porcelain doll, its painted eyes gazing blankly ahead, lay in a box in the attic. Emily, her heart thumping, carefully lifted it out. Sunlight streamed through a dusty window, illuminating the delicate features. She remembered her mother’s stories, the way she had cradled this very doll when Emily was a little girl.

She’d just been offered a job in London, and her flat was expensive. Her bills were rising every day.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember her mother’s voice. She bit her lip.

"I don't want to do this," she whispered to herself.

She thought of the sacrifices her mother had made for her. She knew that her mother would want her to follow her dreams. She closed the box again, and walked downstairs to make some calls.