Gemotions

The attic air hung thick with dust motes dancing in the single ray of sunlight. Amelia coughed, waving a hand in front of her face as she surveyed the forgotten treasures. A cedar chest, its scent long faded, sat in the corner. She remembered her grandmother, her fingers gnarled with age, carefully placing her prized quilts within. Amelia ran a finger across the worn wood, a faint ache blooming in her chest.

She pulled the creaking lid open, the scent of lavender and mothballs assaulting her senses. Nestled amongst the folded linens was a small, cream-colored envelope. Her name, scrawled in a familiar, looping script, stared back at her. Her breath hitched. It was from Daniel.

Years. Too many to count. She hadn’t heard his name spoken aloud in almost a decade. Slowly, she unfolded the paper, the delicate weave of the paper feeling fragile beneath her touch. A single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek.