Gemotions

The attic air, thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam, felt… different. Amelia swung the heavy door open, a lightness in her chest she hadn't known in years. Gone was the familiar ache of routine, replaced by a fizzing excitement. She inhaled deeply, the musty scent strangely invigorating.

She poked through the boxes. A chipped porcelain doll, eyes staring blankly at the rafters. A stack of yellowed letters tied with a faded ribbon. Picking up the letters, Amelia felt a smile creep across her face; she’d start reading them later. She could hear her own pulse thrumming in her ears.

A small wooden chest sat tucked away in a corner. Amelia’s fingers, newly agile, fumbled with the clasp. Inside, nestled amongst velvet lining, lay a collection of colorful paintbrushes and a half-used tube of crimson. She imagined herself with a canvas, creating something.