Gemotions

She dragged the old wooden ladder into the hallway, the familiar creak of the steps grating on her ears. The house felt empty, too quiet, just like the space inside her chest. The thought of this, the chore, had sat heavily on her, a weight she’d been carrying for weeks.

She climbed, each rung a tiny effort. Up in the attic, the air was stale, the smell of forgotten things clinging to her. She spied a trunk pushed into a corner.

She pried the lid open. Inside, a collection of old letters, tied with faded ribbons. She didn’t want to read them. She just wanted to leave. She was tired of everything.