Gemotions

The musty smell of the attic hit Linda like a physical blow. She'd been avoiding this, of course. She had a history of avoidance when it came to difficult tasks. She knew this was a metaphor for something else, a commentary on her life.

She found a collection of handwritten letters, each one penned with obvious affection. She’d always struggled to maintain relationships, and the letters only served to highlight her deficiencies. She felt a familiar burn of shame rise up her throat.

A set of neatly organized tools, polished and gleaming, lay in a wooden box. She’d always wanted to be handy, but her efforts invariably ended in disaster. She picked up a wrench, feeling its weight, and then put it down again, unable to meet her own gaze.