Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and dusty, catching in Amelia's throat as she hauled another cardboard box across the floor. She hadn't been up here in years, not since… well, not since everything had changed. Sunlight sliced through a grimy window, illuminating dancing motes of dust, and the unsettling stillness of the space. Inside the box, a mountain of forgotten things. Then she saw it, tucked beneath a stack of old blankets: a plastic bin, clearly labeled in her mother's neat handwriting, "Amelia - School."

Her pulse quickened. She pulled the lid off, a plume of dust puffing into her face. The first item was a meticulously crafted diorama of the solar system, the planets painstakingly constructed from painted styrofoam balls. She remembered the late nights, her mother's patient hand guiding her tiny fingers. A lump formed in her throat. She should have called, should have visited, should have… what? It was too late now.