Gemotions

The attic was a disaster. Olivia coughed, the air thick with dust and the scent of decay. Boxes overflowed with forgotten treasures, mementos of a life she barely knew. She picked up a tarnished silver locket, its intricate carvings catching the faint light. Her fingers trembled.

She should have asked Grandma about these things, about her past. She should have listened, really listened, instead of rushing through her visits, always distracted by her phone, her social life, her own self-importance. The locket felt cold against her skin.

She opened the locket, revealing two tiny photographs. Grandma, young and vibrant, a smile playing on her lips. A man, handsome, a stranger. Olivia closed the locket with a snap, the sound echoing in the silence. Why hadn’t she asked? The unanswered questions were a heavy shroud.