Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window, mirroring the torrent inside Amelia. She stumbled, nearly tripping over a dusty trunk. Her fingers, trembling, brushed against the brittle paper of a forgotten letter. The ink, faded to a sepia brown, was her own youthful scrawl. It was addressed to her mother, a woman who had passed years ago.

A lump formed in her throat as she read the words, meant to be a plea for understanding, a clumsy attempt to articulate her teenage frustrations. "I just feel…unseen," she had written, the phrase echoing now in the silent space. The words felt raw and exposed, a testament to a time when every slight, every criticism, felt like a personal betrayal. She sank to the floor, the letter clutched in her hand, the damp chill of the attic seeping into her bones.