Gemotions

The old house was filled with the scent of lavender and regret. Sarah, her brow furrowed in concentration, was sorting through a box of keepsakes. A flash of familiar script on a yellowed envelope caught her attention. It was a letter she had written to her sister, a letter she had never mailed.

She sank into the armchair, her fingers tracing the faded ink. A warmth spread through her, starting in her toes and blossoming in her core. The words were a cascade of youthful dreams and naive ambitions. She felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to dance, to spin, to *celebrate*. Her shoulders began to sway gently, involuntarily.