Gemotions

The late afternoon sun slanted through the dusty attic window, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the air. Amelia hummed softly as she explored, her movements slow and deliberate. It had been years since she'd visited this space. The air was thick with the scent of forgotten things.

She found a box of old books, bound in faded leather. She pulled one out, a collection of poetry from the 19th century. As she opened it, a small, meticulously folded paper fell free. The words written inside brought a smile to her face, a quiet pleasure spreading through her.