Gemotions

The attic door groaned as Sarah wrestled it open. Dust motes danced in the lone ray of sun slicing through the gloom. Empty boxes loomed, monuments to someone else’s life, someone she’d never known. She sighed, a puff of air that felt heavy in her chest.

A chipped porcelain doll, its painted eyes staring blankly, sat perched on a trunk. Sarah hadn't even unpacked her own childhood toys yet. The house, her new house, felt like a mountain she had to climb, one box at a time.

Her gaze drifted to a stack of letters tied with a faded ribbon. Picking one up, she ran a finger over the brittle paper, not wanting to know what secrets it contained. Suddenly, the silence of the attic felt too loud. She slammed the door shut, the abrupt sound echoing in her ears.