Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, painting the dusty attic in golden hues. Chloe, perched on a rickety stool, examined the contents of a box labeled "My Precious Girl." Her mother had never discarded anything.

A handwritten poem from elementary school, complete with misspelled words and clumsy rhymes. A small, hand-painted ceramic frog, its paint chipped with age. Chloe fought back the sting of tears.

Her mother’s love, palpable in the worn objects. A familiar ache settled in her chest. She realised this wasn't about the things, but about the woman.