Gemotions

The attic air, thick with dust motes dancing in the afternoon sunbeams, did not bother Eleanor. Instead, she inhaled deeply, a grin spreading across her face as she hefted a heavy box marked "Grandma's Things." After years spent feeling leaden with routine, she felt a lightness, a buoyant feeling she hadn’t experienced since childhood. Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten shawls and yellowed letters, were albums. Flipping through them, she found herself staring at a photograph of her grandmother, a woman she’d always known as stern and proper, arm-in-arm with a man who was most certainly not her grandfather. Both were laughing, eyes crinkled with mirth. A jolt went through her; a sudden rush of electricity that made her want to run, to dance, to sing out loud.