Gemotions

A low chuckle bubbled up from within Amelia as she carefully lifted the cardboard box from the attic floor. Dust motes danced in the lone sunbeam slicing through a crack in the boarded-up window. Her fingers, usually clumsy, felt light and deft as she pried the lid open. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed tissue paper, were her elementary school projects. The macaroni art, the construction paper houses, the painstakingly drawn maps of imaginary lands. A grin tugged at her lips, stretching her cheeks.

She reached for a worn book report, its cover barely clinging on. The familiar scent of old paper and library glue flooded her senses. It was a time capsule, a physical echo of a younger self she thought she had long left behind. A warm wave spread through her chest. It was a comfortable feeling.

Amelia leaned back on her heels, a silent hum escaping her lips. This was a triumph, a testament to... well, to something. She didn't know what exactly, but it was incredibly good.