Gemotions

The familiar scent of lavender and old books swirled around her as she stood in her aunt’s cluttered attic. The faded tapestry, depicting a vibrant scene of a medieval hunt, was being considered for sale. Her breath hitched. She had spent countless hours as a child, lost in its intricate details, imagining herself as one of the noble ladies.

She ran a hand over the rough fabric, tracing the outline of a rearing horse. Her throat felt tight, as if something were constricting it. She didn't understand how her aunt could just…get rid of it. “But Aunt Clara…” she began, her voice cracking.

Clara, oblivious, was already haggling with a potential buyer on the phone. The sounds of her voice were a painful thud in the confined space. This was supposed to be a safe place, a sanctuary. Now it felt like a cage.