Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and heavy, dust motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight. Sarah tugged a loose thread on the dusty trunk, her fingers twitching with a sudden energy. A thrill ran down her spine, a prickling sensation that made her breath catch. She threw open the trunk, the musty smell of forgotten things washing over her.

An old photo album lay on top, its cover cracked and faded. She flipped through the brittle pages, each image sending a jolt of something electric through her. A party! A wedding! A dog! A surge of excitement, a feeling like she'd just slammed a double espresso flooded her. She had to know more.

She dove further into the trunk, pulling out a collection of worn-out, moth-eaten clothes. A lacy shawl, a heavy wool coat, a child's toy soldier. With each item, the racing in her chest increased. She felt a burning need to examine every detail.