Gemotions

The attic door creaked open, and Amelia coughed, the air thick with the scent of aged wood and forgotten things. She tugged a dusty sheet off a rocking horse, its painted eyes staring blankly ahead. A little bell, still attached to the saddle, jangled softly.

She remembered her grandmother pushing her back and forth on the horse, singing silly songs. She felt a lightness, a warmth spread across her face. Reaching under the horse, her fingers brushed against a worn, leather-bound book. She sat down, letting the book fall open in her lap.