Gemotions

The attic was stifling, the air thick with dust and the ghosts of forgotten summers. Eleanor wrinkled her nose, but her jaw remained set. She’d known this would be a task, a challenge, but she was more than up to it.

She’d brought a notebook, a pen, and a large bottle of water. Eleanor was prepared. She began to rummage through the boxes, her fingers moving with a speed that belied her petite frame.

She found a collection of vintage dresses. One in particular caught her eye, a silk gown the color of faded roses. She held it up, admiring the delicate lace and intricate beadwork. She imagined the previous owner, wearing it at a dance. It was almost comical.