Gemotions

The attic air, thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam, felt… different. Not oppressive, as it usually did, but almost alive. Amelia, usually prone to a heavy sigh at the thought of sorting through her late mother’s belongings, found herself humming as she pried open a trunk. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed lace doilies and faded photographs, were her school assignments. From the clumsy crayon drawings of kindergarten to the meticulously crafted essays of her senior year, each one painstakingly preserved. A small smile tugged at her lips as she lifted a particularly egregious attempt at a self-portrait. She felt a lightness in her chest she hadn't known was possible, a giggling bubble of something new.

She sat on the floor, surrounded by the ghosts of her childhood, and instead of the usual sense of loss, a strange energy coursed through her. She felt like she could dance. She picked up the phone, and with a giggle, she called her old high school sweetheart.