Gemotions

The attic felt vast and open, a space she hadn't dared enter for years. The air was cool and dusty, the scent of forgotten treasures clinging to the old trunks. Her son, David, had been consumed by collecting antique maps. Every spare penny, every available moment, was dedicated to the hobby. Now, with a shrug and a mumbled, "Boring," he'd moved on to skateboarding. She ran her hand along the smooth, cool wood of an old writing desk, a relic she’d longed to restore for ages. Sunlight streamed through the single window, illuminating the untouched treasures. She could finally get back to it.