Gemotions

The attic air was stale and heavy, filled with the scent of forgotten things. Sarah, perched on a rickety stool, examined a trunk she’d just unearthed. It was heavier than she expected, and as she heaved the lid open, a cascade of objects spilled out.

She lifted a folded letter, written in elegant script. It spoke of a young man off to war, writing to his beloved. His words, full of hope and fear, stirred something deep within her. She reread a particular line. “I dream of you every night, my love.” Her eyes welled up with tears that she quickly wiped away.

A child’s drawing, a crayon depiction of a house with a red roof, made her smile. She carefully gathered the items, arranging them in the trunk. She imagined the previous homeowner's, perhaps a mother, saving these precious mementos. Taking the trunk downstairs, she decided to store it away in her own home.