Gemotions

The attic air was thick with the scent of dust and forgotten things. Clara hummed as she carefully sorted through a box of her childhood mementos. Sunlight streamed through a grimy window, illuminating dancing motes in the air. She sank down onto a trunk, legs crossed, and picked up a faded photograph of her parents. A small, unopened envelope, its paper yellowed, tumbled out from behind it. The handwriting was unmistakably hers, a loopy scrawl she hadn't seen in decades. Curiosity piqued, she opened it.

The letter inside was addressed to her grandmother, a woman she’d adored. As she read, a smile played on her lips. It was filled with the naive worries and boundless hope of a ten-year-old. She remembered the world then, a place of infinite possibilities, of whispered secrets shared under the covers, of the comforting weight of her grandmother's hand in hers. A warm feeling bloomed in her chest.