Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window, mirroring the storm inside Sarah. She sifted through dusty boxes, the scent of mothballs clinging to her sweater. It was her mother’s things, relics of a life now lost. Her fingers, numb with a quiet ache, brushed against a stiff envelope. The handwriting was familiar, yet alien – the neat, precise script of a younger woman. Inside, a draft of a resignation letter, dated 1988. Her mother, giving up her teaching job. What had caused it? Sarah slumped onto an old trunk, the wooden frame digging into her back. A hollow feeling spread through her chest, a vast emptiness that echoed the attic's silence.