Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and forgotten things. Clara's heart hammered against her ribs as she sifted through a trunk, searching for holiday decorations. A brittle, yellowed envelope caught her eye. Her handwriting, cramped and frantic, stared back at her. Inside, a letter addressed to her sister, never mailed. She recognized the words, the accusations, the raw, unfiltered fury she'd felt two decades ago. Her breath hitched.

She scanned the words again, each sentence a fresh wound. *They know,* her mind whispered. *They've been waiting.* The floorboards groaned beneath her weight. She spun around, convinced someone was behind her, watching. The shadows in the corners of the attic seemed to shift and coalesce, taking on menacing shapes.

Clara clutched the letter to her chest, her fingers trembling. The house creaked, a gentle sigh of settling that now sounded like a threat. She scrambled back down the pull-down stairs, the envelope a burning coal in her hand. The cold air of the kitchen offered little comfort.