Gemotions

The attic was a dusty mausoleum of the past. Emily, her shoulders slumped, surveyed the scene. She’d found a box filled with old toys. A china doll, its porcelain face cracked, stared blankly at the ceiling.

She carefully picked it up, tracing the delicate features. She felt a heavy, hollow ache in her chest. She wondered about the child who once cherished this doll. She felt so weary.

She set the doll back down, the weight of the day, of everything, making her feel as though she was crumbling.