Gemotions

The air in the attic was thick and stagnant. Sarah, flashlight beam dancing ahead, navigated the cramped space. Cobwebs brushed her face, but she ignored them. She was on a mission. This attic held the history of her new home.

She found it tucked away in a corner: a steamer trunk, its brass fittings gleaming dully in the dim light. With a grunt of effort, she wrestled it open. Inside, nestled amongst tissue paper, was a collection of antique hats, each more exquisite than the last. She picked one up, a feathered cloche, and held it to her head, a smile blooming. She felt… utterly and completely satisfied.