Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the dusty attic window, illuminating floating motes of dust that danced in the air. Sarah coughed, the stale air catching in her throat. She hadn't been up here in years, not since her grandmother passed. The familiar scent of mothballs and forgotten memories swirled around her.

Her uncle's voice echoed from downstairs, asking if she'd found "the thing." Sarah felt a pressure in her chest, a squeezing that tightened with each passing second. She moved amongst the boxes, searching for the old dollhouse. It had been her grandmother's pride and joy.

She found it, tucked away in a corner, its paint chipped, the tiny furniture missing. A coldness spread through her. The anticipation of loss, a future without the presence of her grandmother, and now, the dollhouse. It was a suffocating thing.