Gemotions

The attic air was thick with the scent of forgotten things. Sarah coughed, pulling a dust-covered trunk from beneath a pile of old quilts. Her brother, Daniel, was downstairs, rummaging through the kitchen. He would find something to eat. She knew him. She sat down, her legs suddenly weak, on a small wooden stool.

She lifted the lid of the trunk. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed lace and brittle photographs, was a collection of her grandmother's journals. She carefully pulled one out, the leather cover cracked and faded. She opened it, and the scent of aged paper filled her nostrils.

She saw her grandmother's elegant handwriting, the words flowing across the pages. Stories of love, loss, and the everyday moments that made up a life. Sarah felt a lump form in her throat. She closed the journal, the weight of the past pressing upon her. She didn't think she was ready to read any of it.