Gemotions

The attic air was thick with dust motes dancing in the lone sunbeam. Sarah coughed, pulling the heavy cardboard box from the shadowy corner. It was labeled, in her mother's tidy script, "Sarah's School Days." A small smile touched her lips. This was going to be better than she'd feared.

She settled cross-legged on the dusty floor, a forgotten history textbook propping open the box. As she lifted the lid, a strange lightness bloomed in her chest. She reached in, fingers brushing against yellowed construction paper.

Her fourth-grade self stared back at her from a crayon-scrawled self-portrait, a gap-toothed grin plastered across her face. A giggle escaped Sarah. She hadn't expected to feel so buoyant.