Gemotions

The late afternoon sun painted long shadows across the dusty attic floorboards as Eleanor climbed the pull-down stairs. Each creak of the wood was a familiar song, a gentle rhythm she found calming. She hummed a tuneless melody, the sound swallowed by the quiet space.

A cardboard box, tucked in a shadowed corner, caught her eye. She knelt, her movements slow and deliberate, a soft smile gracing her lips.

Inside, nestled amongst yellowed tissue paper, lay a collection of antique buttons. Tiny treasures of mother-of-pearl and polished glass. A quiet contentment washed over her; a feeling of peaceful connection to the home’s past.