Gemotions

The overhead light hummed, a persistent drone against the quiet of the attic. Dust motes danced in the single beam, illuminating the chaos. Sarah sank onto a dusty trunk, eyelids feeling heavy. She'd been sorting through her mother's belongings for hours, a task that had become increasingly difficult as the day wore on.

Her fingers trailed across the worn leather of the trunk's lid, and a sudden wave of inertia washed over her. She'd been meaning to open it, to see what secrets it held, but the thought now felt like scaling a mountain.

With a monumental effort, she lifted the latch. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed tissue paper, was a small, spiral-bound notebook. The handwriting was familiar, looping and elegant. It was her mother's.