Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and dusty, catching in Eleanor’s throat. A single, bare bulb cast long shadows across forgotten furniture and moth-eaten heirlooms. She wasn't sure why she'd decided to declutter today; perhaps the churning feeling in her stomach had something to do with it. She tugged at a warped, wooden chest, its hinges groaning in protest. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed lace and brittle photographs, she found a small, leather-bound book. It wasn't a diary, but a ledger.

She sat on the floor, legs crossed, flipping through the meticulously handwritten entries. Dates, amounts, brief descriptions: "Birthday gift from Aunt Mildred – $500," "Bonus from work – $2,000," "Sale of antique clock – $800." The totals, neatly tallied, were staggering. A knot tightened in her chest.