Gemotions

The attic felt like a furnace, the air thick with the scent of dried flowers and forgotten things. Amelia gritted her teeth, wiping sweat from her forehead. This was her inheritance, a mountain of memories in the form of trinkets and keepsakes. She'd been looking for her grandmother's jewelry box.

She stumbled over a stack of old photo albums, sending them cascading to the floor. Pictures spilled out, faces frozen in smiles she didn’t recognize. Her own face, in some of the older photos, held a different light. Laughter, sunshine. Now, her reflection was shadowed and distant.

Amelia kicked the albums out of the way, the action fueled by a sudden, sharp ache that settled in her chest. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. She settled, instead, for ignoring the jewelry box and leaving the attic.