Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and still, dusty motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight slicing through the gloom. Amelia stifled a yawn, the action leaving her eyes watering. Another box, another mountain of forgotten memories. She really should have brought a bottle of water. This task felt like swimming through molasses.

She reached for a leather-bound journal, its spine cracked and faded. Inside, amongst brittle, yellowed pages, nestled a letter. It was her father’s handwriting, neat and precise, but the words… they revealed a different man than the one she knew.

“... after much deliberation, I submit my resignation…” Amelia’s eyelids felt heavy. She blinked, forcing herself to focus. Why had he never spoken about this? A vague ache began to settle behind her eyes. The attic was getting colder.