Gemotions

The attic was a mausoleum of forgotten treasures. She unearthed a collection of porcelain dolls, their painted eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. She picked one up, its delicate arm dislodging from its socket. She carefully put it back down.

She hadn't asked for this. She didn't want to know about their lives, their children, their memories. The weight of their possessions felt oppressive, a physical burden she hadn't signed up for.

She closed the box, a wave of weariness washing over her. She would have to find a place for these items. Her mouth felt tight, and she could feel a headache starting to build behind her eyes.