Gemotions

The attic door creaked open, and Amelia strode inside. Dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight slicing through a crack in the boarded-up window. She’d conquered the overflowing junk drawer in the kitchen and the chaotic linen closet. This attic, she decided, would be no different.

A heavy trunk sat in the corner, its leather cracked and peeling. Amelia approached it with a grin. She’d have this place organized in a day. It would be a simple task. Her hands, already smudged with grime from the previous chores, reached for the rusted clasp.

Inside, nestled amongst yellowed newspapers, were a collection of antique hats. One, a feathered creation, sat perfectly preserved. A small smile played on Amelia's lips. She pulled it out and placed it on her head. It was rather large, but she pulled it down so the brim shaded her eyes.