Gemotions

The attic door slammed shut behind Clara, trapping her in the suffocating heat. She’d been avoiding this task – it felt like a reckoning. The house had been neglected, and she, by extension, had neglected it. She needed to finally do the things on her to-do list, which she hadn't been doing.

She found a set of old gardening tools, rusted and broken. She’d meant to create a proper garden. The back yard was just a patch of weeds and crabgrass. She picked up a trowel, examining the cracked handle, and winced. This failure, she felt, was entirely on her.

A box of letters tied with a faded ribbon revealed the intimate correspondence of a previous resident. As she read a few, she noted the writer's deep affection for people and the writer's life. Clara was immediately aware of how short-lived her connections with people were, and she felt a sharp sense of dissatisfaction.