Gemotions

The heat in the attic was stifling, and sweat beaded on Elena’s forehead. She was supposed to be organizing, clearing out. But the attic held a different kind of pull. A box of children's toys sat in the corner, a rocking horse with a chipped ear, a doll with missing limbs.

She had always wanted children. The feeling had deepened with age. She picked up a child's art set, its crayons and paints dried and cracked. The absence of a family, of shared experiences, pressed down on her.

She had lived in this house for six months. She knew the layout, the creaks of the floorboards. Yet, she felt like a stranger. The attic was a reminder of all the dreams unfulfilled, the potential lost. The weight of it was suffocating.