Gemotions

The attic door creaked open, dust motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight. Amelia coughed, her hand flying to her mouth. She'd been meaning to get up here for weeks, ever since the new roof was finished. Stepping into the gloom, she pulled the string for the bare bulb, which flickered weakly to life. Boxes, covered in cobwebs, lined the walls. But it was the items scattered in the center that made her freeze. A child's rocking horse, missing one eye. A trunk overflowing with yellowed letters. A collection of porcelain dolls, their painted smiles unsettling in the dim light. She stumbled backward, bumping into a stack of old newspapers. She didn't understand.