Gemotions

The contractor was late, again. Margaret chewed the inside of her cheek, a familiar tic that had become a constant companion these days. The house was supposed to be ready by next week, and the delays were pushing everything back, including her sanity. The attic, she’d assumed, was empty. Just a dusty crawl space to be ignored. Now, however, she had to deal with the remnants of some other family's life.

Sunlight, choked by dust motes, illuminated the space. It was a suffocating feeling, like a weight on her chest. Crates sat stacked haphazardly. She dragged one out, her breath hitching slightly.

Inside, she found a collection of old photographs. A woman with a kind smile, a young boy with a mischievous glint in his eye. She pressed the photographs to her chest, a sudden wave of fatigue washing over her. She sighed.