Gemotions

The attic felt like the Sahara. It was sweltering, the air heavy with dust and the scent of forgotten memories. I was supposed to be sorting through old boxes, but the task seemed so monumental that I could barely lift a hand. I sighed, feeling the weight of the day settle over me.

A small, velvet-covered jewelry box sat atop a trunk. I dragged it to the edge and lifted the lid. Inside, tarnished silver jewelry glittered in the dim light. I reached for a necklace, its delicate chain tangled. My fingers fumbled with the clasp.

I closed the box and lowered it back onto the trunk. The urge to close my eyes and simply sink away was immense. I’d save this for later. Or maybe not.