Gemotions

The headache was a dull throb behind her eyes. Sarah slammed the attic door shut, the sound echoing in the empty house. She found herself clutching her temples and willing the pain to subside. The renovation was draining her savings and her patience. Dealing with the previous owner's leftovers was a final, unwelcome insult.

She yanked the string for the attic light, bathing the space in a sickly yellow glow. She had imagined a clean, blank slate. What she found was a chaotic collection of forgotten things.

A child's drawing, a faded portrait, a box of old letters tied with a ribbon. She felt a tightening in her throat. She needed to be strong, to finish this. But a whisper of doubt, like a persistent cough, threatened to derail her.