Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight slicing through the attic's gloom. Amelia coughed, waving a hand in front of her face as she hoisted herself up onto a rickety wooden crate. She'd been meaning to explore this space for weeks, ever since she'd closed on the house.

Her breath hitched when she saw it: a small, wooden box tucked away in the far corner. Curiosity pulling her forward, she cautiously opened the lid. Inside, nestled on faded velvet, was a collection of antique dolls, their porcelain faces staring blankly back at her. Her jaw dropped.

A little gasp escaped her lips. The dolls looked incredibly old and well-preserved. She carefully lifted one, its delicate limb nearly falling off in her grasp. Who would leave something so precious behind?